


Ghost of the Cascade Mountains

by Blue_GhostGhost (Delphyne), Delphyne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dragons, Enemies, Forced Bonding, Hate to Love, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Slash, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphyne/pseuds/Blue_GhostGhost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphyne/pseuds/Delphyne
Summary: Hunter's family's trade in shortgrass is at stake from rivals from the south. When his dragon magic is depleted and he is trapped behind enemy lines, fate forces his hand and he must take a hostage to survive.





	1. Moster in the Sky

Ghost sucked his tongue, tasting the copper sweet tang of blood where he’d bitten it as he watched the stretch of the Willamette Valley below. Only a few days travel from home and it was like another world, all thick greenery and forest, moss-wet meadows, and silty brown rivers. A fermenting place, with none of the bracing chill of the salt cold sea.

They farmed sin in this wet earth, producing some of the highest yielding Shortgrass crops in the world--a substance so valuable men were dying for it right before his eyes, fertilizing the fields with their blood. The Kingfisher family may have held onto this territory for a generation, but three bad seasons in row and the The Penitents were prepared to use every brutality available to take it. And Sky had insisted that his favorite priest come and watch it happen. Did he think it would be impressive to see their clan reduced to likes of common thugs? But it was always a headache trying to figure out what Sky was thinking most of the time.

The wind threw his long white braids into his face and he swatted them aside impatiently, the muscles in his jaw tense. The smoke from the burning estate buildings and warehouses painted the sky red with the setting sun, a rich buttery light that would quickly fade to blue darkness, the caustic air making his lungs burn. He could see the surge of bodies in the low light, the cry of the dying as the compound was taken unawares. Ghost’s eyelashes fluttered and he let out a small gasp as it hit him like a blow to the chest, his heart clenching at the sensation of so many souls separating from their bodies at once, a thick cloud of death rising upward. The energy rushed through him, hot and undulating. His stomach churned and he blinked rapidly, eyes stinging as he coughed hard as he tried to process the shock. His head would buzz for days.

His apprentice and their bodyguard exchanged a look behind his back, but he ignored them, eyes again darting rapidly over the ensuing fight. He didn’t really give a fuck what they thought of him, so long as it wasn't the truth. A man or woman with a witch-curse never lived long amongst his people and Ghost had no intention of feeding the flames of a midwinter beach bonfire when he got home.

“Pay attention, Oak,” he snapped, tone snotty, masking the horror he felt privately at what was happening below. “I will expect you to recite the progression of these events perfectly and assist in the purifying of this land.” He gave a small sneer. “You may be three years older than me, but we shall make a passable man of the cloth of you yet.” He allowed himself the quickest of side glances, taking in Oak's sour expression with satisfaction. He wasn’t the worst student he’d work with, but he was also Elder Sky's youngest son and he liked stamping out his arrogance.

“Yes master.” Ghost nodded in acknowledgement of the honorific, but said no more. At barely twenty, he was young for someone allowed to take their full vows and he took the role seriously. He liked the challenge of weaving together the history and rites of the sacred The Penitents, noting births and deaths, singing the hymns and chanting their prayers. His mind was quick with practice, voice sweet with careful training, and fingers calloused from the playing the strings of his instrument. One day, when he was long into the ground, their history would be remembered through his words. Even this pitiful slaughter.

“Those Northern devils don't stand a fucking chance,” Oak observed, voice eager. “At this rate we’ll have control of trade all the way to Seattle by summer. Maybe Canada by the next. My father will be one of the most powerful man on the West Coast.” 

“If it is the will of the gods,” Ghost said placidly, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. There would be no living with Oak or his entitled brothers then. “Remember that it is their will, not ours that controls the fate of men.”

Oak gave a grunt of disgust. "I cannot imagine the gods could care much for that lot of pig fuckers and magicians. Even their black magics will not save them against a true fight."

Ghost hummed in agreement, no love lost on the Kingfishers. Their taint was well known and their downfall a long time in coming. "It grows dark, see how our people light the blessed fires? Soon it will be as if the stars themselves have fallen from the sky."

"The stars themselves," Oak murmured, rolling the words in his mouth. "You know, father gave the order to leave no survivors."

"What?" Ghost demanded, feeling sick. "He told me no such..."

Oak cut him off with gleeful satisfaction, eyes so knowing Ghost felt himself blush. "You may be his momentary favorite, master priest, but I am his blood and..." he let out a sudden choked cry, hand flying up to point at a streak of blue light directly above them. "W-what the hell is that?" It descended towards the field, like a flaming arrow, bursting mid flight, the brightness momentarily blinding them. The ground shook, a great rumbling sound filling the valley, bouncing off the surrounding hillsides. Ghost stepped back, losing his footing and dropping to one knee. Pain shot up his calf at the impact, but he ignored it.

"Dragon," He whispered, body trembling in terror and wonder. He’s never seen one with his own eyes before. The blue beast circled the field, its massive wingspan carrying its bulk with graceful ease as it filled the air with fire. It glowed with magic, its polished body gleaming, sending strange reflections across the ground, drowning out the torchlight with its unnatural haze. From where they stood he could just make out the broad head, the suggestion of a snout, a long tail that swung back and forth like a whip. "No, no no," he shook his head, rattling the beads in his hair. "It can not be. How can it be?" He watched in horror as the valley broke into chaos, the torchlights snuffing out as quickly as their lives. The wave of death hit him hard, making him grit his teeth and moan, squeezing his eyes shut so hard tears streamed down his face.

 

"Come on," said their guard, grabbing Ghost by the arm and yanking him to his feet. "We have to go. Move your ass NOW."

 

*****

 

Hunter Kingfisher swore under his breath, arms aching with the weight of his bundle. His ears rung, mouth gritty and dry. The wound across his back burned as he worked his way up the side of the muddy hill, the ground softened by spring rain, caking his boots and making his trek tortuously slow. He paused to shift the weight of his burden, allowing his eyes to trace the jagged horizon of grey mountains, their sloping sides spattered with green vegetation. He sighed, the air cool and clean in his aching lungs. Soft sunlight came down through the smattering of cloud breaks and he could hear the chatter of birds going about their daily business in the treeline. He knew these hills well, had come here often as a boy to stay at the estate. It had been happier times, then, in the years before his usefulness had became all too apparent and Lance had called him home to follow in their father's ambitions. Bastard son or not, there was no denying he was a Kingfisher through and through with all the gravity that entailed.

Hunter felt bile rising in his throat and forced himself to push on. So many dead and despite the relative tranquility around him, the battle still echoed in his mind. The scream of the horses, the ground sticky and slick, an iron stink in the air, the sound of metal on metal and the guttural moans of the dying. In the past few years men from the south had come, encroaching on their operations and terrorizing their farmers, but nothing like this. When his half brother heard what had happened here, there would be all out war. He had seen the fires in the distance, orange flame and black smoke and he had known then that they burned the compound, effectively paralyzingly the bulk of their Shortgrass operations.

It had taken what was left of Hunter's dragon magic to carve out a retreat for the remainder of his men, to guard their backs as they fled, pouring his very soul into the effort of conjuring the full dragon form. It had torn across the the field, all teeth and scales and fire, leaving him on his knees and gagging in its wake. The southern whores had made symbols across their chests and faltered then, afraid. It had stopped the killing, but it had come at a great price.

He'd drained himself beyond his limits, far too quickly and by all accounts he should be dead right now. He'd seen mages die from less and while trying to conjure something far less powerful. Did his men think as much? He hated being separated from them, but the magic had required a high vantage point, high above the killing field. He lived only by some miracle, but his circumstances were dire and he still had plenty of opportunity to end up dead. He was behind enemy lines now, weakened within an inch of his life and alone. Well almost alone. The bundle in his arms gave a soft moan and Hunter rewarded it with a reproving cuff to the head. There was no sympathy in his heart for a murdering coward, even one on which he rested his hope of survival.

He reached the junkyard in the late afternoon, a mixture of relief and disappointment to find them as empty of inhabitants as they had ever been. Nothing but rust fractured cars and weeds, like great metal mausoleums sinking back into the muddy green earth. He should have sent the warehouse workers here to hide before it was too late, before that twisted gang of degenerates had slaughtered them without mercy. That ache, he knew, would not leave his heart anytime soon.

He dumped his armload in the shade of an old school bus, ignoring the grunt of protest at the rough landing. Next he un-shouldered his pack, stretching his limbs and listening to his joints pop. He drank slowly from his canteen as he regarded his captive. The young man lay awkwardly on his side, hands and feet secured by makeshift cloth restraints, a rag covering his face. His body was thin and sinewy, pale and marked with strange symbols both painted and inked into his skin. He wore a white shirt and trousers, both mostly brown with a mixture of mud and blood, a long strand of wooden beads around his neck.

 

Hunter snorted, draining the last of the water, fucking murderous hippie freaks. He had managed to take the three scouts by surprise, but this was the only one that he had let live, the only one Hunter had any use for. He kneeled down, using the knife from his belt to cut the fabric, pulling the cloth from the boy's face. Ice blue eyes blinked up at him, a cloudy mixture of anger and pain. He was young, his cheekbones high and broad, just barely offsetting the boyish roundness that lingered in his face, the smattering of freckles that ran across his nose. His mouth was swollen where he'd hit him earlier and split his lip.

White blonde hair trailed down the boy's back in a series of small braids laced with a multitude of beads and charms. Hunter touched them experimentally and his captive flinched. This close up he could feel the power emanating from him, thick and rich and good. Hunter swayed, almost dizzy. He felt like a starving man with a veritable banquet set before him. 

"What is your gift?" The young man only blinked, making Hunter sigh. "I'm in a piss poor mood, little boy. Don't try my patience. You've already seen what I'm capable of."

"Murdering coward! Skulking around in the bushes." 

"Yes and your men were so very cordial with their introductions, hacking up a bunch of defenseless farmers? Where are my manners?" He had him by the hair a moment later, words coming between grit teeth. "Let's focus on the problem at hand shall we? I have great need to feed my dragon. If you cooperate with the bond, and I get what I need, then no harm will come to you."

The boy's eyes went wide as he struggled against his restraints and the fist that held his head in place. "Dragon? It was you? You made that monster? No, no, no. Witch! Demon! Stay away from me."

 

"You are hardly one to talk. I never understood you people. What are you? Some sort of Shortgrass dealing cult? The Penitents, is what you call yourselves?" Hunter had his knee on his chest and a knife to his throat within a heartbeat. The boy stilled, eyes wide. "Listen up, princess. You are in my home and you will not speak rudely of the Lady of the Mountain and her gifts. Instead I suggest you start praying you do not die here, you filthy short addled zealot. You have come to her mountains unwelcome. Do you know what becomes of the souls our Goddess will not have?"

Defiance flashed across the young man's face. "What?"

"They find no peace, she will not take them, and they haunt these mountains."

The boy looked started and then suddenly laughed. "Fitting. I'd rather that," he spat, "than be the spawn of some whore of a deity that fucks devils and makes witches like you." Hunter backhanded him hard, taking some pleasure in the sharp crack that echoed off the surrounding vehicles.

"Shut your mouth."

The boy grimaced back, flashing his teeth. He'd cut the inside of his lip, staining them a gruesome pink. Hunter shivered at the display, making himself a promise to dispose of this vile creature as soon as humanly possible. Even as the boy physically repulsed him, his magic called to him again. He experimentally put a hand on the boy's chest, feeling his warmth through the filthy fabric as he reached out with his own diminished gift, glaring with frustration when he failed to make contact. Deep then. Probably underused. Was it possible the young man didn't even know? He had certainly heard very little talk of The Penitents using magic. But wouldn't they have the ability to at least recognize it in one of their own? "Enough foreplay. What's your gift?" he demanded again. "What kind of magic do you have?"

"I'm no witch! We practice none of your blasphemy."

Hunter gave a humorless laugh. "No indeed not. You only deal in Shortgrass, and ruthlessly murder your rivals. I honestly have no idea what else you all get up to in your spare time and don't really want to." The boy shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing. It made him seem momentarily younger, perhaps barely past a child, but he'd been whelped in a vipers nest and Hunter had no intention of forgetting that. "I'm depleted. It's at least a days hike to the road and I need your magic. I will force the bond if I have to."

"I don't have any damned magic!" Hunter had him by the throat, then, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he tried to force his dragon magic deep enough to touch the boy's. Sweat gathered on his forehead and his fingers trembled as it crept slowly into the prone figure below him. He bit into his lip until he tasted blood, but nothing came.

The boy let out a small whimper, his eyes screwed shut tight. "S-s-stop. What are you doing to me?"

 

Hunter swore, suddenly standing up and stalking away, trusting his knots to keep the boy from going far. He looked up at the sky, leaning against the door of a rusty Buick. Too soon it would be pinked with the setting sun. He wondered if it was safe enough to light a fire, and decided after some deliberation that it would be. He swayed, his body at the breaking point of exhaustion. The scouts he had ambushed had had little in the way of supplies and soon he would need to find water, presumably now for two. He shook his head to clear it. What a terrible mess this was all turning out to be. Lance was going to have his balls when he finally made it home.

******

Hunter pulled back, with a snarl, removing his hand from the boy's chest. "Curse you!" he snapped. "You're not even trying to help." The little he had eaten, some stale jerky and dried apple, rolled in his stomach, threatening to come back up as his abused magic coiled back into his body.

The boy's face was flushed and he was sweating as if he'd just run a couple of miles on a hot day. "There's nothing to help. I already told you. I'm not what you think I am, you addle brained witch." His prisoner rolled away from him as best he could still bound, pulling his knees up to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. "Just kill me and fucking get it over with. I can not take the feeling of your filthy magic inside me any longer." 

Hunter slapped him hard across his exposed cheek, taking in his murmur of pain, but it failed to soothe his temper. Hours wasted and he had nothing to show for it, weaker and farther from safety than ever before. A small fire crackled near by, filling the air with a heavy scent of smoke. "It's better this way," he said to himself, but only half believing it. "You are completely untrained, obviously, and it will be far easier for me to fully control your power once it has bonded with mine."

Pale blue eyes flicked up to watch him, a livid handprint forming on pale skin. Hunter hesitated a moment, dreading following through with his threat. He had only shared power a handful of times, preferring the ebb and flow of his natural reserve over the intimacy of exchange. Also, his dragon magic often overly drained his partners and the one sidedness of the ordeal tended to put a strain on any relationship. Not so much an issue in this case, but he also only knew of one way, in their current circumstances, to force a bond with magic buried so deep, and the idea of it made his skin crawl. "What are you going to do now?" The boy asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

He sighed. "There are more physical ways to find your magic, though I am not pleased to use them."

"Then don't."

"You leave me very little choice." He lunged forward, rolling the young man onto his stomach. Hunter had at least a hand's height on his captive and was broad chested and heavy. He straddled his narrow thighs easily, pinning him to the uneven ground. Hands still secured behind his back and ankles bound, there was little the young man could do to resist.

"Let me up," he whined, low and panicked.

"I won't," he said darkly. "Don't ask me again." He ran hands down his sides, feeling the muscle shift and twitch under his hand, tight and athletic. "Take deep breaths and try to relax," he ordered.

"Fuck you," he ground out, face pressed into the ground awkwardly.

"Well that's part of it," Hunter said mildly.

He let out a sharp gasp. "Let me up."

 

Hunter sighed. "First lesson, ignorant swine, is that sex magic has a sacred and legitimate history. I understand it, in principle, but know that I still find you repulsive.” He shrugged. “Be that as it may, if laying between your legs is how I will survive this, so be it, and you would do well to spread for me without complaint."


	2. Crawling on the Inside

“I’ll kill you,” the boy said, voice cold and wretched. “For killing Oak, for this, I will rip your throat out with my teeth if I have to.”

Hunter snorted. “You'd be justified, but I’d like to see you try.” Still straddling him he ran a hand down the stiff line of the boy’s spine before pulling back. He ripped off his coat, rolling the fabric and shoving it under the boy's pelvis, forcing his hips to jut upward as he reached under and quickly worked the laces of his filthy trousers.

 

For all he unnerved him, the young man was not altogether unattractive, pretty even, skin soft and warm in the firelight, the lines of his body slim and graceful. Hunter picked up one braid, running a thumb over a bead carved of white bone. "Did you do these yourself?"

"May you get fucked by a pack of wild dogs," The boy thrashed uselessly in his arms. "May you still be alive when they devour your intestines."

"Wow. Colorful imagery." He exposed the globes of his small, tight ass without further ceremony, yanking the fabric down to just past his knees, ignoring his gasps as he was uncovered. "I appreciate a talented tongue from time to time."

"Oh gods." It was a whimper of distress. The boy's magic thrummed in his chest like a heartbeat, fractionally grazing Hunter's own half slumbering dragon. "I-I'll do whatever you say. Just, just not this."

Hunter refused to be moved, thinking of his fallen men, their glass dead eyes as they were cut down savagely. The little old women that packaged the shotgrass in the warehouses all day, the farmers making deliveries to the drying racks. "It's a little late to offer your cooperation now. Why shouldn't I use you as I please?"

"You're wrong about me," he took in a tight breath. "This won't work. I’m not a witch."

"We'll let's find out shall we?" The boy’s thighs were trembling and Hunter pet up them with his palms, feeling the warm smooth skin. "Shhh," he hushed. It had been a long while since he’d fucked someone for the sake of their magic and he tried to recall his training, fingers trailing intimate patterns on the body under him. A few light strokes later and he followed the path with his tongue, sliding up the salty skin and exploring the crease between thigh and ass as he massaged the other cheek with his hand roughly, kneading the flesh.

The boy jerked, muscles spasming as his shoulders went tight. Hunter paused to push the back of his shirt up, exposing more skin and then spent a moment mesmerized by his lower back tattoo, a series of intricately designed horses in red, black and blue ink. He ran his fingers along the shapes, surprised by the way the skin was raised there. "When did you get this?"

His captive cleared his throat, almost hesitant. "What?" 

"This marking here," he clarified, "the horses."

"Two years ago." His tone was unreadable. "When I turned 18 and could go to a proper shop to have it done."

"You say you aren't a witch, and yet you are covered with an incantation if ever I've seen one. I assume you designed this yourself?" Without thinking Hunter scooted down his bound body until it was easy to kiss the marks, tonguing the ridges of the raised skin slowly, finally using teeth, lost for a moment in the spark of magic that filled the air, burned against his mouth. "There you go, that's it." His breath washed over the round curve of his ass as hands spread the firm flesh. The glow of embers left them in fractured shadow, made the angles of the boy's body more pronounced.

Encouraged, Hunter leaned down, experimentally putting tongue and lips over the tight puckered hole. The boy's breath hitched and then he let out a low whine as he tried to squirm in his grasp. Hunter's fingers dug into the muscle of his backside, grip bruising as he bore down, sucking lightly, then hard, taking in the musky taste of another’s body, before forcing his tongue inside insistently. He fucked him like that for a bit, driving in over and over, adding a finger alongside his tongue a moment later, stretching the muscle. The boy hissed, swearing and giving a choked objection when he spit on his hole, pumping his thumb in and out roughly.

"So pretty the way you open for me," he said, face still buried in his ass. Hunter moved his hand away from the boy's body to rub to his own cock through the fabric of his jeans, his mouth still working, feeling the delicate flutter of his pucker against his lips like a kiss. "Yes," he said against that sensitive secret skin. "I can feel the magic pulsing in you, clawing to come out. You gonna give it up sweet for me?" His words were met with silence. "Hey kid?" There was little response. "You still with me?"

"Go to hell, witch." He let out a deep sigh, eyes closed.

"You ever been fucked before?" Silence followed. Annoyed, Hunter administered a sharp smack to his flank, making the kid jump under him. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

"None of your business," he snapped, more heat in his tone suddenly. “Just fucking get on with it.”

“I wonder if you’ll maintain that sentiment with me buried to the balls in your ass hmm?" He pulled out his cock and stroked himself mercilessly, thinking of past lovers, pretty boys and flirtatious and willing women, drawing his climax closer, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Then he moved, shoving the head of his cock against his captive's entrance, breaching just enough to make him cry out, before coming hard, spilling seed barely inside, dripping most of it down the boy’s balls and inner thighs.

Hunter took deep breaths, chanting small incantations, not daring to pause as he stroked his half hard member between the boy’s come soaked asscheeks, the wet squelching sound of their bodies rubbing together mixing with the sound of their breaths. He used his hands to press the boy's cheeks together, watching his quickly swelling penis press the flesh apart as it ran over the boy's softened and twitching asshole.

"Ready princess?"

"Die horribly." Slicked and ready, he gripped his shaft, angling it, his hips jutting forward inch by inch, slow and deliberate, each movement greeted by a shuddering breath from the body he entered. The boy gasped, moaning sharply as he sank all the way in, using his hands to spread him apart, leaving more marks on his ass as he sank even deeper. He watched in fascination as the young man's asshole stretched to accommodate the girth of his cock, surprised at the erotic thrill the image gave him.

"No. S-stop. Ah, ah it hurts!"

He gave a derisive snort, slapping his ass, liking the way it colored and the boy tightened around his cock. He did it again, a little harder this time and then once more on the other cheek. "Am I to understand that you can endure the pain of inking your skin, but you can't take a cock? I find that hard to believe don't you?" He ran a hand down his ribcage, could feel his skin begin to dampen with sweat.

"Nhgh." He made an incoherent noise and struggled, but in his current state he was easy to subdue.

"Understand, I intend to fuck you until our magic takes. No use in holding out on me now." He moved his hips in a slow and easy rhythm, driving into the warm, tight body before him with easy abandon. "I used to come out to this old junkyard as a boy," he said, almost conversationally. "There's a few abandoned barns about a mile from here, but I'd be willing to bet good money I'm the only person to come up here in the last fifty years." He increased his speed, watching himself disappear into the boy over and over again, the force of his thrusts rocking his body, making his ass bounce enticingly. He could feel his dragon just beginning to stir, lapping out at the rich power that was buried even deeper than his cock. "The world has forgotten this place and I have all the time I want here with you."

The boy let out a soft moan, his body hot and compliant. Hunter closed his eyes, the smell of sex, pungent and raw tickled his nose. He was beginning to really feel it now, what once was just a promise of magic was turning into a slow trickle that fed his own. It was just out of reach, calling to him wantonly. He wound fingers into his captive's long braids, yanking hard until his head lifted off the ground, back arching as he gave a sharp cry. Hunter slammed into him then, blanketing himself over the smaller body and fucking hard and wildly, his dragon starving, snapping at so much fresh, unused power, chasing it down deep. The boy begged incoherently then, his words tumbling into each other, helpless to do anything but take what was given to him. Hunter came suddenly and with gritted teeth, his seed spilling deep inside the young man's body. "Goat fucking son of a whore!" he bellowed, slamming his fist on the ground. Not enough, not nearly enough, their connection sputtering out like a spark doused in water. Rage ran through him followed very quickly by something very close to despair.

 

He pulled out with a wet sound, rolling the boy onto his back, trapping his still bound hands behind him. His face was flushed, bottom lip pink and swollen, eyes dazed. He snapped back a moment later, anger flashing through his features. "What did you do to me?" he demanded. "You did something, witch. I can still feel it."

 

Hunter pushed sweat soaked hair from his face and sneered. "Well I'd hope you felt something with the plowing I just gave you. You won't sit right for a week."

The boy made a choking sound, eyes darting away. "Bastard. That's not what I mean and you know it!"

"What did you feel?" He sat back, adjusting his clothing and resting his hands on his knees. The boy looked wrecked, sprawled in the dirt, limbs contoured awkwardly.

"I don’t know!"

Hunter rolled his eyes in frustration. "Describe it to me." He rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. His back and thighs ached, his dragon now restless and irritable for all the teasing it had endured. He desperately wished he had a better mage and a willing participant to make this all go faster, but he was just going to have to try harder.

"I said I don't know!"

Hunter reached for the knife he kept on his belt, gesturing at him with it as he spoke. "Well might I make the friendly suggestion that you put some more effort into it?"

"Heat? I felt a lot of heat in my chest and belly. Gods..." he fell silent.

"Go on." The boy shook his head, a halo of tangled hair framing his face. "Tell me what you were going to say."

"Fine.” He huffed, still remarkably defiant. “It's terrifying. I hate it and I just want it to stop."

Hunter spread out his coat as he listened, rolling to his knees and crouching next to him. He reached down, cutting away the binding at his ankles with quick, efficient movements. "It would go better if you relaxed."

That got him a choked laugh, bordering on hysterical. "Relax? Relax says the man that murdered my brethren and repeatedly rapes me!"

"Well I'm sorry I don't have the luxury of a couple months to train you to recognize your own damn gift. I need to reach your power now." He worked the laces of the boy's soft leather boots, pulling each one off before removing his trousers all the way. "Cooperate and I will at least let you live."

"Ah." The young man’s breath caught as Hunter grabbed both his thighs, yanking him forward onto the coat, pushing his knees apart. He flinched at the rough handling, body tender and bruised.

Hunter loomed, kneeling between his legs. "Don't fight me or I'll tie you up again. I'll put that rag back over your face and you won't know if it's day or night until I'm done with you. Understand?"

The boy met his gaze with cold blue eyes. "Yes."

"Good. Now then," his fingers worked the buttons of the kid's shirt, exposing the expanse of his chest and several more tattoos besides. "What else besides the heat? What else did you feel?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, frustrated. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because, as I have explained repeatedly, you have something I need." He gave into the temptation and tasted one of the boy's pink nipples, taking it between his teeth and biting until the he yelped. He lapped at it with his tongue, liking the way the flesh swelled and peaked. He ran his calloused fingers down his flat stomach, the muscles jerking under his touch. "You have very smooth skin for a little thug." He observed. "Not even a scar from a bar room brawl."

"I'm not...I mean I don't..." The young man let his legs be pushed up and open without bothering to complain, Hunter's eyes drawing over him as firmly as his hands had. His hole was slightly puffy, come still drippling out, leaving his inner thighs sticky and shiny with it. Slipping two fingers into his mouth, Hunter quickly wet them. “I’ve never hurt anyone,” he whined.

Hunder pulled out his digits with a soft popping sound. "Oh? What are you doing here then?" He pressed fingers to his entrance, making a small sound of satisfaction when the overworked ring of muscle offered little resistance. "You look like one of the bastards that murdered my people to me."

"Ah! Please, no more, please." He tried to close his legs, but Hunter rebuked him sternly, pushing them further apart with the hand not currently sinking into him.

He put his mouth close to his ear as he spoke, breath hot. "I will have you as many times and in as many ways as I wish. I am from the house of the dragon, a Kingfisher by blood and might, and you dare to come here, to harm me and mine." He curled his fingers, grinding hard against the boy's prostate, felt him arch up, eyes blank and unseeing, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. "You invaded our lands, fouled our sacred mountains and now, my filthy little vermin, your body is forfeit. You belong to me. You are my whore until I say otherwise."

The boy groaned, low and deep, face flushing dark, breath rasping. His ass lifted off the ground, muscles flexing around the fingers violating him. He swore, calling out to gods, begging for mercy, for him to stop or to keep going and then a name. "Sky, Sky, please, please."

Hunter lay halfway on top of him, sucking his other nipple into his mouth, lavishing more abuse on it than he had the first one. The boy's body twisted, jerking beneath him. Their magic thrummed and blossomed between them, his dragon latching on greedly to the glut of untapped power.

"I can't, I can't...oh shit, oh please, please."

"Resit me and I'll just start this all over again." The boy's cock was hard now, twitching and dripping precome against his belly. The fire had died low, leaving them in almost darkness, a prickling chill to the air that made gooseflesh across their skin. Hunter removed his fingers, moving down until he could take him in his mouth, swallowing the boy's cock completely, tasting the salty tang of him as he massaged the glans with his tongue, taking him deep, nudging the back of his throat.

Without warning he shoved two thick digits back in, finger fucking him hard, ramming against his prostate again. A scream tore from the boy's throat as he came, thighs shaking as he pumped his bitter release into Hunter's mouth. His dragon whipped around them in a frenzy now, and the boy blinked at the strange pattern of light, his chest still heaving from his release.

"What is that?" he whispered softly.

"Your new master." Hunter leaned forward, pinching those boyish cheeks between his index and thumb, forcing his lips to part. He leaned in, cupping his own mouth over the boy's as fed him his own seed by force. The young man made a sound of objection and tried to pull away, but Hunter held him by the hair hard, pinning him in place until he swallowed, claiming that pretty mouth as much as he'd claimed the rest of him.

With a sudden grunt of pain Hunter pulled back, running the back of his hand over his bottom lip, the taste of blood mixing with that of the boy's come. "You little bitch," he snarled, slapping him hard across the face. "You bit me."

The boy glared back, teeth bared, unable to wipe away the line of spital and semen that ran down his chin. "Curse your bones, witch. You disgust me. I will see you dead and left as carrion on the rocks."

Hunter's annoyance went straight to his cock and he pinned him to the ground with his weight, pressing their hip bones together painfully, his jeans rubbing against bare skin. "Oh I disgust you do I?" He sat up and spit into his hand, quickly pushing his jeans from his hips and jerking his cock to full hardness. "Show me how disgusted you are." He pushed the boy's knees up to his chest, lining up his cock and thrusting into the tight confines of his ass in one go.

"Ughh," the boy grimaced at the sudden intrusion, eyes fluttering. Hunter grabbed at his thighs, forcing them further apart so he could fuck him deeper, riding out the mixture of anger and pleasure. The young man snarled like a animal. "W-we burn witches where I come from. I'd like to see your blackened body used for kindling. Ah!" He let the air out of his lungs in a slow huff as Hunter changed angles, ramming his overly sensitive insides, slamming him into the ground. The boy's cock began to reluctantly fill again.

"You're too stupid to even sense your own magic. You're worthy of nothing but my contempt. I'd rather be fucking a pig."

"Ha! As would I, you filthy devil spawn...guh" he grunted at a particularly hard thrust, his breath catching in tight little hitches. Hunter worked him methodically, hips snapping forward as he caught fingers in his hair, ran teeth down the curve of his neck, sucking a hard mark on the sensitive flesh.

"Come for me, princess, I want to feel you shudder tight around my cock before I spill in you again," said whisper soft against the shell of his ear. "Show me how much you like your holes filled up with spunk."

He shook his head, furious. "I hate you."

He bit his earlobe lightly. "We can always start all over again, if that's what you want." He pet his head, smoothing the braids. "Come on, give me what I need. You may be vile, but your magic tastes sweet." Hunter reached between his legs and cupped him, squeezing his aching cock, then he began stroking in time with the fuck. "Who is Sky?" The boy looked horrified, eyes wide with fresh panic.

"Don't. Stop it. Don't you dare say his name."

Mother Goddess but he felt good, maybe the best he'd ever had, and how messed up was that? "Did he ever fuck you like this?" He punctuated each word with the pumping of his hips, watched in awe as his captive came apart, looking both humiliated and debauched at the same time, slick with sweat, spread open and trembling. It shouldn't have been as thrilling as it was. "Did he know how to use you until you were this compliant and well ridden?" The young man let out a low whine, eyes screwed shut, his pleasure excruciating. "Baby, I don't think anyone has fucked you this throughly in your short little life, not even your Sky fellow."

When the boy came this time it was different, the pleasure of his body clamped tight mixing with something larger, blotting out Hunter’s vision. The dragon rushed in easily now, burning right through him, pulling from his very core, the feeling of heat and glass smooth scales against skin. He heard the boy scream, throat raw and cracking and then nothing more.

 

*********

 

Ghost woke on his side, body half curled around his captor's jacket. It smelled of leather, horses, traces of cloves and sex. He grimaced. The fire had been built up again, keeping back the worst of the cold. He was still naked, a pattern of livid bruises forming down his body. Ghost winced as he sat up, feeling every inch of the abuse he’d endured. He stared into the flames a moment, his mind in shock. His student and bodyguard murdered at the hands of a cruel and insane witch. A witch whose magic he could still feel inside him, violating his body as surely as he had done with tongue and fingers and cock. Over and over again.

He shivered, his stomach twisting at the memory. Never had he been used in such a crude way. Who would dare to treat a priest so? Sky. His mind retorted treasonously. Sky had in his way. Their hasty encounters were always controlling and rough. So one sided. And Ghost had practically gagged for more. Begged for it and been rewarded with nothing but humiliation. He felt himself flush to the tips of his ears. Gods but the things that man had said about Sky. Would he ever be able to scrub the memory clean? He pressed his face into his palms but stopped short of tears.

He would find his bloody revenge: for Oak, for Sky, for himself. His fingers twitched, promising violence, but he swallowed his despair, forcing it down like a cold stone. When the bastard was dead, then he’d let himself cry. 

"Here." He jumped at the sound of the deep rumbling voice behind him and then called himself every kind of idiot for being startled, for letting it show. "The tea helps with sore muscles." He glared in mute hatred as a cup was pressed into his hand, the pungent scent all too familiar. Shortgrass. Lovely.

The man was tall, probably in his early thirties with broad shoulders, pale skin and thick, messy reddish brown hair. He had a large, aristocratic nose and heavy lidded eyes, his features roughened by several days gone without shaving. He gave a small smirk. "Of course nothing will completely take the sting out of your ass after a fucking like that. You're lucky I lost my horse and can't make you ride."

His rage boiled up, unleashing itself before he could stop it. "Son of a devil fucking whore." He threw the cup, splashing the man across the chest and face with hot water. "I will kill you!" He kicked out, catching the him off guard, knocking his legs out from under him. "I will piss on your corpse and leave it to rot in the sun!" Ghost lunged forward again, hands claw-like, scratching at skin, feet landing unskilled blows. He bit down hard on his arm, teeth sliding in until he tasted blood.

His captor screamed as an elbow connected hard with Ghost's gut, knocking the air from his lungs. Gasping, he kneed him in the groin, felt a twinge of satisfaction when he groaned. Ghost scrambled for escape, naked and on hands and knees, scraping his bare skin on the uneven ground, the glass and weeds and rocks of the old junkyard.

A hand darted out, grabbing him by his braids, yanking him backwards. His feet flew up comically as he landed on his back with a hard thud. "You little bitch." A moment later and the weight of the larger man was bearing down on him, pressing him uncomfortably into the dirt, one hand still in his hair as he straddled his hips.

"Get off of me you monster!" He roared, struggling uselessly.

The man leaned down, so close he could feel his breath on his cheek. Their eyes met. "Now you listen to me," he said, voice soft and dangerous. "I've kept you alive for one purpose. You will fulfill that purpose to my satisfaction or I will find unpleasant ways to force your compliance."

Ghost spit, saliva hitting his cheek with a wet splat. "You might as well slit my throat now, because I'll do the same the moment you dare sleep."

Something surged through him, hot and heavy, sliding against his nerves, making his back arch as he let out a sharp cry. His nipples peaked, his cock growing fat between his legs. "Ngh." The sensation amplified, gripping him deep in his gut, making his skin prickle with sweat. The man grabbed his wrists, stilling his flailing hands and pinning them to the ground.

"Have you absolutely no training? You fight like you're in a whorehouse."

He sneered back, "Well you fuck like you were born in one."

He gave a casual shrug. "Not entirety inaccurate, but really beside the point."

Ghost gasped, body twisting as another surge of power barreled through him. "S-stop it," he begged. "Make it stop. I can't take anymore." He shut his eyes, gasping for air, writhing uncontrollably.

The man's expression went from anger to amusement. "You feel him inside you don’t you? Taking your magic as it pleases him? Dragons are greedy little creatures, possessive and territorial once they've claimed their prize. You will do nothing to harm me. Now that you belong to him, he won't let you."

He squirmed uncomfortably, like a worm on a hook. "Make it stop." The pleading in his voice was downright shameful.

"I wouldn't dare. Not with the mood you've put him in." Ghost closed his eyes tighter, feeling the foreign magic move through him, his cock already dripping precome. It was worse than his own witch curse, even on the battlefield. He grit his teeth and screamed in impotent frustration, helpless against what was happening to him.


	3. Raven Feathers

"There is a spring on the other side of that ridge. It should take a few hours to reach it and then we can rest there for the night."

Ghost said nothing in reply, his lungs burning from the steep ascent. If the man cared that his body still ached deeply, making the speed with which they climbed torture, he gave no sign of it. He studied the direction indicated dubiously. It was nothing but wilderness, undeveloped forest as far as the eye could see. He didn't know what his captor carried in his pack, but as far as he could tell they were woefully unprepared for any kind of extended travel in the elements.

The afternoon sun beat down on them, making his skin gleam with sweat, the hairs that had come loose from his braids clinging to his face and neck. His clothes felt itchy and smelled foul and he longed for a shower and a great deal of honey wine to ease his mind. When he looked up again it was to a knowing smile. "I suppose about now you're wishing you'd drunk that tea instead of throwing it at me."

He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, expression blank, hatred brewing in his heart. "You'd be supposing wrong. I'm not interested in being helplessly doped up on shortgrass in your company, thank you."

He snorted. "Well you're the one suffering, not me."

"You'll suffer. Give me time."

"Don't waste your breath with empty threats, sweetheart. You won't be the first wild thing I've broken to my will." His tone promised things that made a shiver run up Ghosts spine, made the dragon heat burn through him.

He did his best to push it from his mind, ignoring how unsettled it made him feel, and put his thoughts to more practical matters. "Why go gallivanting into the woods in the first place? Isn't someone bound to come back to the property sooner rather than later?"

"Perhaps. Just as likely it's your people crawling all over the place. I'll take my chances with the bears and logging roads, find my men or a way back to the city to regroup."

Ghost faltered in his steps. "Oh for fuck sake,  _bears_ ?"

He let out a sharp laugh. "Don't worry. They're more afraid of you than you are of them."

"I sincerely doubt it."

They fell into silence, working up the rocky terrain. Ghost studied him from the corner of his eye, flushing in embarrassment and clearing his throat before he spoke. "You said that this dragon..."

"My dragon," he corrected.

"Your dragon," he acknowledged, feeling the echoing thrum of the creature deep in his belly, a tether that kept him as tied to this man as if he were still bound hand and foot. "How can it keep me from harming you?"

He looked mildly surprised. "How can it not? It is my magic, without me it would die. He slumbers when he is weak, but well fed as he is now, he'll be alert to danger."

"I knocked you over just fine this morning."

His captor shrugged, unconcerned. "My life was hardly in danger and besides you were subdued soon enough."

"What if I'd had a knife?" He countered, prickling with the shame at the memory of being pinned, his body thrumming with arousal and magic.

"You didn't."

"But...but," Ghost scowled. "You keep talking about it like it's some kind of sentient being." He shook his head, unnerved. "Like it has feelings."

"Oh it does. You'll get to know his moods soon enough." He spoke in an easy tone, breath even despite the hike. "He and I are a good match and I received excellent training, but I'd hardly call taming dragon magic an easy task. He does as I ask, but his desires are his own."

"Desires?"

"You, for example, he's far more fond of you than I am."

Ghost shuttered, horrified and barely able to repress the squeamish feeling rising in the back of his throat. "And within me your Dragon is bonded to…" He trailed off searching for a word that didn't make him feel sick.

"Your magic," he offered.

"But…" He let out a frustrated huff and shook his head. "That's different. It's not like your witch curse at all," he said. The thing inside him didn't want anything, it was barely more than a sensation, an inconvenience to be ignored. Wasn't it?

"Then tell me what it's like for you."

Ghost shook his head. It was blasphemy to even talk of such things, both dangerous and stupid. This man was a cold blooded killer, a brutal rival in the Shortgrass trade. He had only spared his life in order to rape him and press him into unwilling service, to violate him with his filthy magic and Ghost had no intention of speaking to him of things he hardly admitted to himself. "Nothing," he said sharply. "It's like nothing, because I don't feel anything."

****

Ghost splashed another handful of cool water onto his face with a sigh of relief, the drops trickling down the back of his neck, making lines in the dust and dried sweat on his skin. Everything hurt, from the tips of his ears down to his toes. His stomach churned, too full of magic and too empty of food. He watched the man suspiciously as he kneeled near by, filling the canteen from his pack. "Can you start a fire?" he asked.

Ghost gave him a disgusted look. "Of course I can." By the gods he was weary to the bone, so pushed past his physical limits he dreaded even having to stand and stagger back to their camp.

"Go gather some wood and kindling, make sure it's dry or there will be too much smoke. There are matches in my bag."

"Where are you going?"

He fixed him with a impatient stare. "Go make a fucking fire, that's where. Don't leave camp or I'll hunt you down and you won't like it when I find you."

"How about you go fucking fuck yourself? Make your own damn fire." He stood, brushing off the knees of his trousers, swaying with exhaustion.

"Suit yourself. We have precious few supplies and I'm perfectly happy for you to skip meals if that's how you want to play it."

"What do you mean skip meals?" He snapped. "What goddamn meals? You have food?"

"I tried to give you tea, you threw it in my face."

"You tried to drug me." Enraged he paced over, snatching the canteen from his hands, water sloshing as he glared down at him. "You take far too much pleasure in being cruel, you dog fucking…" Ghost was cut off by a swift sweep of a foot, his legs going out from under him as he landed on his still tender ass with a broken cry of pain.

"Stop complaining and do as I tell you, princess."

Ghost made a rough noise and threw the canteen aside, mustering enough hate and anger to propel himself forward with a feral snarl. He caught the man by the front of his shirt, knocking him into the spring green grass with a grunt. "Hide behind your twice cursed dragon if you want, I'm still going to claw your eyes out!"

The man swung, clipping him hard in the jaw as they rolled, their legs tangling. Ghost grabbed at him, taking clumps of brown locks with him, eliciting shouts of rage. Dragon magic ignited in Ghost's gut, not yet incapacitating him as he attempted to inflict as much pain as possible in the little time he had left. Scrambling up the larger man's body, he sunk teeth into the ball of his shoulder, biting him through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The man tried to shake him off, swatting at the back of his head, pulling on his braids. Ghost fought back with the fury of the desperate, more like a cornered animal than a trained fighter. The dragon rattled through him, heating up his blood and making him hiss in discomfort. Another roll and they plunged into the shallow pool of the spring, soaking through their clothing and clouding the water.

Taking advantage of the distraction Ghost slammed his fist down, watching as blood poured from his opponent's nose, a small waterfall of red. He could feel his body succumbing to the magic inside him, going hard and tight under its spell, but he didn't care. He would take his punishment and savor this moment for a long time to come. "Where is your magic now, witch?" he mocked. "I hope I broke the bone. I hope it deforms that big, ridiculous…"

"My dragon knows that I don't need magic to subdue a petulant child." He had Ghost by the throat a moment later, swearing and flipping their positions, pushing down, submerging his head. Ghost clawed at the hand that held him, legs thrashing, eyes wide in panic. The man was too heavy, impossible to dislodge. His body screamed out for air, as he kicked helplessly, his lungs compressing in a stream of bubbles from his nose. The dragon still thrummed, wild and hungry, a final indignity. He was going to pass out, could already feel the greying out around the corners of his consciousness.

At first he thought it was just a hallucination, the dark flutterings against his dying vision, like moths beating against a lantern, wings black and feathery, frantically pumping. He could feel them brush his cheeks, feel the flex of muscle around the reed thin bones. Not insects, he realized distantly. Birds. So many birds.

********

Hunter saw the ravens bathed in dragon blue light, his own magic mixing with something alien and strange, making his ears roar, like ice water mixed with an electric shock. They dipped and circled, ominous and frightening, for always those creatures were the symbol of death and the dying. He recoiled as they rushed through him, a frantic slapping of wings that made his chest ache, a cold, dark magic seeping into his veins. Goddess help him, the sensation was terrifying and he made a noise in distressed wonder, heart thudding in his chest.

His dragon followed, agitated, bursting into the clearing above them in a cloud of fire and smoke that quickly dissipated like steam, dissolving his magic's corporal form with it. Hunter blinked. What the fuck was that? Had that come from the kid?

He looked down at his own hand in horror, pulling the boy up immediately. Water poured off his body as he hung limply in his arms. "Idiot," he said, slapping at his face frantically. The young man had fought like a wild thing and the pain blooming across Hunter's face was making his eyes water. "Wake up."

The boy began to cough, jolting upright and gasping loudly as he sucked in air, chest heaving painfully. Hunter felt a wash of unexpected relief as he gave him several hearty thumps on the back. The boy made a choking sound and then he screamed, voice cracked and horrible, ice blue eyes wide and unfocused, as if seeing something very far away.

"Shhh," he hushed, fingers covering his open mouth. "Shut up. Someone could hear us." The boy tried to bite him and he snatched his hand back, too surprised to retaliate.

"Good," he croaked out. "I hope someone comes and kills you."

"What in the hell were you thinking?" he asked. His head ached miserably of too much magic and he could feel his dragon's displeasure.

"That I hate you." He sounded exhausted, drained down to the core. "A lot."

"We've established as much. A further demonstration wasn't necessary."

"You fucking had it coming." He shook his head, then he glared. "You tried to drown me!" he said, attempting to scramble out of his grip, wet limbs sliding uselessly. "L-let me go!"

"I did not," Hunter said, voice uncertain, hands still holding on around his waist. "If I wanted you dead, you would be by now." Finger shaped bruises were already forming on the boy's thin neck, the skin around his eyes dark with fatigue. "But if you bite me again, I swear, I'll find a way to muzzle you like a rabid dog." The boy pulled away again with a sharp jerk, slipping in his attempt to stand, giving a soft cry as he landed with a splash, water soaking Hunter all over again.

Hunter rolled his eyes, pushing back a wet mop of hair. "Oh for the love of the Goddess." He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, pulling himself to his feet and grimacing at the new aches that presented themselves. Honestly, he should have just kept the little bastard's head under water and saved himself the trouble. He reached down and took the boy by the arm, helping him up. "Watch your footing, the rocks are slippery."

"Oh why thank you. I hadn't noticed."

Hunter pulled him tighter against his side when he swayed uncertainty. "Your people are swarming our territory in the hundreds and I had to get the biggest idiot in the lot."

"Go get fucked by dogs."

There was so little venom left in the boy's voice Hunter laughed. "Come on, princess."

"Don't call me that."

"What should I call you then?"

He hesitated a moment, considering, and then relented. "Ghost."

"Seriously?"

Ghost made a face. "Yeah seriously. Just shut up about it, okay?"

"Okay." He lead him a few paces further. "Hunter Kingfisher. The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure. Sit down." Ghost sat in the grass next to a circle of moss covered stones, a long unused fire pit in their overgrown campsite. A moment later and Hunter was standing over him again. "Here, eat this." Ghost blinked up at him blearily, taking the offered energy bar without comment. He unwrapped it, eating it in two large bites, looking miserable. "Try to get some rest. You're going to need it."

*******

Ghost woke when Hunter was removing his second boot. He kicked at him feebly and let loose with a series of mumbled curses. "Don't touch me," he concluded.

"By all means, please, undress yourself," Hunter told him. "But you should put your clothes by the fire so they can dry. It will be cold once it gets dark.

"Fire?" He blinked sleepily, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Hunter was shirtless, down to a pair of boxers, in fact, his own things already arranged a short distance from the flames that were cracklings cheerfully in the stone pit.

"Yes," he looked annoyed. "A bloody nose later and I still had to make it myself."

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Should have done it your damn self in the first place."

"Aren't you brilliant." Hunter stood, rolling out his shoulders. He was well built, muscular and broad, seemingly completely at ease with being half naked. "Took my cell phone battery out to dry. We'll see, but I'm guessing it's shot.."

"You have a cellphone with you?"

"I had one anyway. Not that I get reception this far out. Might have come in handy eventually though."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"Sorry I guess."

"Please don't strain yourself. There's some tea left in that cup if you want it. Just nettle leaf, no Shortgrass, scouts honor. I think we should save the rest of the energy bars for tomorrow, but I have some jerky. You're probably nauseous as a motherfucker from all that magic, so just know I'll be pissed as hell if you decide to eat it and then throw it back up."

With a weary sigh Ghost rose and set his boots and shirt to dry. He took the tea, drinking it without complaint though it had long gone cold. He sat back down and watched the fire, his expression blank and hands unsteady. Hunter knelt beside him, draping his oversized leather jacket across his shoulders. "Pants too, kiddo. You're soaked."

His expression was murderous. "Do fuck off."

"You're a pretty tough cookie, I'll give you that." He wrapped his hand around the cup of tea, his fingers overlapping with the Ghost's as he added more water from his canteen. Their eyes met, but Ghost didn't jerk away, his shoulders seeming to slump in defeat. "Don't know too many people that could take this much shit and keep swinging." A moment later and there was a faint glow of blue light, a zap of energy between them. Ghost's eyes went wide at the sight of rising steam, his cheeks flushing. "A parlor trick, don't look so impressed." Hunter gave his arm a congenial pat before standing. "Now take off your pants and put them out to dry. Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Ghost shot him a look of pure hate. "Why don't you shut it and leave me alone, Hunter Kingfisher? I'm plenty miserable without you fucking trying to push me."

Hunter smirked. "Hmm. It was my impression that you were rather responsive to being pushed. Tell me, did Sky ever get you to cry out?"

Ghost let out a shriek of pure frustration, rising to his feet, hands fists, face hot, his tea forgotten in the dirt. "I would see you burn, witch, even if it meant I joined you in those flames."

Hunter took a step forward, crowding into his space, but Ghost held his ground. "Now that's a pretty fucked up thing to say. Must be rough thinking your Goddess given gift is something worth being killed over."

"I don't need you to explain to me what's fucked up. Excuse me." Ghost stepped around him, face blank as he undid the drawstring of his trousers, sliding them off and laying them out, the coat obscuring his nudity down to his upper thigh. Hunter watched him for a moment longer before forcing himself to look away with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos. I'm very excited to say that this story will be updating most Fridays from here on out! I will also be on a frequent fic update schedule through my patreon https://www.patreon.com/blueghostghost and the current stories might appeal if you like this one. 
> 
> Swallowed by the Whale
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> When Prince Lazarus of Bethany comes tumbling out of the belly of a whale, pirate captain Skylark and his crew dub the young man, “Jonah.” Fearing for his safety, Lazarus embraces the name as he figures out how to navigate on Skylark’s whaling vessel and how to navigate relations with the legendary captain himself. With their rocky start, will trust ever be an option?
> 
> 1st chapter  
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/12gjijxHLLzUpfxi5AuXQSBA32StlE1_KCDoYN62K_FQ/edit?usp=sharing
> 
>  
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> Juicy Fruit
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> Everyone has a price. I didn’t want any part of Johnny Hollywood’s world, but in the end I didn’t really have a choice. Set in 1989 San Francisco.
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> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-chapter HXqgjK5nZqXn8zP10R_aAHDveIa9G6MIbYoZtbvtg8/edit?usp=sharing


	4. Bones and Wax

Hunter woke on the cold ground with his head aching. There was the sound of singing, something sad and searching, the notes pretty though he could not quite make out the words. The music sank into him, tendrils of foreign magic reaching out to wrap around his own, shadowy and shy, like a stray cat stroking around his legs. He reached out to it in surprise, felt dark immenseness, the smell of incense and candle wax.

It scuttled away immediately, the beating of wings, whisper soft and then the singing stopped and there was only silence. He hissed, fingers going to the tender bruising around his nose. He'd have one, if not two black eyes as it healed. Just perfect.

"I rather think it's an improvement to your face."

Ghost was sitting only a foot away or so, looking as if he'd just woken himself, the shadows under his eyes not much better for a night's sleep. Hunter scowled in the boy's direction. "Shut up." He rolled over and stood, brushing himself off and stretching out the stiffness in his back.

The young man shrugged, his fingers methodically unbraiding his hair, carefully working out the tangles. "Is it broken?"

"No. You hit like a girl."

He he paused in his task and raised an eyebrow. "We clearly do not keep company with the same kind of girls. I learned quickly to stay out of my sisters way when they were on a rampage. Better to find a good hiding place."

Hunter felt a twinge of something that felt a hell of a lot like remorse, the thought of a childhood so recently left behind and that still boyish face unnerved him. He shook it off, going to fish two energy bars from his bag. "Sisters? Where are they now?" he asked, handing him one. Ghost took it, opening the package with his teeth before answering.

"Presumably still on the ranch. My family raises horses. It's a pretty place, Humboldt on the coast. I wish I'd had the good sense to stay there. Just think, I could be out riding on the beach right now instead of facing whatever fresh hell today will inevitably bring."

"Horses? Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well between your Salem witch trials and butting in on our shortgrass operations, I don't know how you’d find the time."

Ghost picked another charm from his hair and added it to his growing pile of carved white beads on the ground in front of him. "Shortgrass is our most lucrative business, but we have more than one way of supporting ourselves."

"You mean your cult."

"The Penitents are not a cult. We follow our sacred teachings and the ways of the old gods. I hardly expect that someone like you would understand."

Hunter shook his head. "See the fact that you call yourselves that suggests otherwise. I can't believe we've been grabbed by the balls by a bunch of freaky cultists with a hankering for an anthem of Heinrich Kramer's greatest hits. You do know half the Shortgrass market is for spell work right?"

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know what shortgrass is used for. Besides the occasional medicinal aid, it can offer a kind of…" he made a vague gesture. "A kind of sight into the world beyond one's regular perception."

"You mean it makes you high."

"Yes," he sighed as if he were talking to a complete moron. "If that's all you're open to I suppose so."

"And if I'm open to something else?"

Ghost met his eyes. "Then maybe you end up getting something else."

"Yeah okay." Hunter shook his head. "And how again does that settle with your worldview exactly?"

"Umm how does it not? You talk to your Goddess don't you?"

"Of course. The magic that runs in my blood is a blessing from the Lady in the Mountains."

"To my eyes it’s more of an abomination," he corrected. "But whatever. Is it so strange we'd talk to our gods as well?"

Hunter made a face, finishing off his energy bar with a grimace. "Well if you get them on dial, kiddo, put me on. I have couple of questions I'd like to ask them."

"Sure. Let me see what I can do." Still sitting cross legged, Ghost collected up his beads, cupping them in his palms and shaking them like dice, eye closed, breath slow and steady. They rattled like teeth.

"What the…"

“I’m going to tell your divination.”

“Yeah I’ll pass thanks.”

“Why? You afraid you will be held accountable for your sins?” Ghost rolled his eyes. “Baby.” He threw with a practiced flick of his wrist, scattering them out at his feet. They fell in a constellation, ordering themselves by some unseen force and then Hunter felt the true weight of it, magic surging through him so fast he thought for a moment he might hurl. Shit oh shit oh shit. Ravens, so many fucking ravens. Black wings scattering above them, rising up and up, the sentinels of something far more ominous, a cold and hungry maw that threatened to devour and crush everything around them.

He launched himself forward, slamming physically into Ghost and knocking him to the ground, pulling up his dragon to counter his icy terror with fire and smoke, the reassuring feel of scales against his skin. He slapped the boy across the face. Hard. "Knock it the fuck off," he shouted at blank looking eyes. "Are you trying to get us killed? Ghost? Ghost!" He pulled on their bond, then slammed down hard on the dark thing seeping into his pores, filling his nostrils with the smell of earth and dry roses.

The vision dissipated, retreating back from wherever it had been conjured, leaving patches of yellow grass and the needles shriveled and brown on the trees all around them, like the lapping tongue of death. A glut of power roared in Hunter's ears, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck as his greedy dragon rumbled with pleasure. Normally it took all his effort to feed and maintain his magics, never had he ever swum in such excess. What in the hell had just happened? His head was pounding in his chest and his stomach churned. Under him Ghost crumpled, eyes screwing shut as tears ran down his cheeks.

"You goddamn idiot," Hunter growled, his fear making him light headed and furious. "What the actual fuck?" Ghost let out a guttural sob, body vibrating against him, shaking so violently his teeth chattered as he cried harder. Oh for The love of the Goddess. "Hey, okay," he said more softly. "Hey." He shifted, sitting up, pulling Ghost halfway onto his lap and against his chest, feeling him continue to tremble. "Deep breaths. It's over okay? Just breathe." Ghost's body went rigid, seeming to come back to himself and he pulled away, scooting backwards until there was distance between them again. He used his hand to wipe snot and tears from his blotchy face, still making hiccupy little sobs.

"I'm going to assume that wasn't intentional, but listen to me. You really need to be more careful. Whatever you've been keeping on a leash, it is a lot closer to the surface than it used to be." Hunter schooled his voice not betray the abject horror he was feeling. Whatever the hell Ghost had tapped into, it was damn powerful. He hadn't encountered a gift that wasn't fully eclipsed by his dragon in years.

"But I've thrown the beads a hundred times and nothing like that has ever happened," Ghost said, incredulous. "We do it all the time."

Hunter swore, calling himself all kinds of stupid, pressing fingers to his eyelids as he felt a fresh headache coming on. In his desperation he had rushed into their bond, the full repercussions of which were only beginning to become apparent. "Yeah you've probably been doing little bits of magic your whole life, never recognizing it for what it was. Now that we've jacked up the juice you really need pay better attention."

"We? We?!" Ghost was on his feet in an instant, his fear and misery replaced with righteous anger. "No. There is no fucking we in this situation, Hunter. You did this. To me. You fix it."

"There's nothing to fix." Hunter stood, somber as he shouldered his pack. "The genie doesn't go back in the bottle, sweetheart. Come on. We should go. The air smells like we're in for rain." He tried to lead Ghost by the arm but he yanked it away.

"Don't touch me you cursed piece of shit." His voice was full of contempt.

Hunter glared. "Then walk. I know you're freaked out and pissed off about it, but my company is going to be a hundred times less pleasant if we don't find a roof over our heads tonight."

"What's happening to me? I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what's going on."

"That is in the hands of the Goddess. It's her gift running through you."

"No!" Ghost shook his head. "I am no son of your damn Goddess. Tell me something I can believe."

"Alright," Hunter said flatly. "They are omens of death. Can you believe in that?"

The boy's face went ashen. "Death?" he whispered.

"Ravens are guardians of the dead. I'm sure you saw them today, as well as yesterday at the spring. They move between the world of the living and the dead. You look afraid, but not entirely surprised. Perhaps you've seen signs? Little oddities over the years that are starting to become more clear?"

Ghost's expression shuttered, becoming a blank mask. "No. Nothing like that."

"Well I'm sorry to say I don't know a whole hell of a lot about it. It was never a field I had reason to study." Hunter shrugged. "Later I can show you some basic meditations to help focus your energy though. Your reluctance to accept who you are is not an excuse to be sloppy."

Ghost made a face. "I'm the sloppy one? I was fine, I was in perfect control until you came along."

"I'll take my share of the blame. Now come on."

Ghost started to follow and then paused. Returning to the spot where he'd thrown the beads, scanning them carefully for a moment before kneeling to pick them up. "Of course it would be an ominous and uncertain reading. Because obviously."

"What the hell are you doing?" Hunter stalked back over to him. "I'm going to say hard pass on taking those with us. You can have toys when you learn to use them."

"I can't just leave them here."

"Yes. You can. In fact, I insist."

Ghost looked distressed. "But my great grandmother carved them. She was a priestess of our order."

"Nope. Come on." He tried to pull him up to his feet, but Ghost resisted.

"She carved them from the bones of our ancestors. Please, they're irreplaceable."

"Holy shit!" Hunter dropped to the ground next to him. "For fuck sake. Bones? Human bones? Are you shitting me? Have you ever made a grown man cry? Because you're about to.”

“Please. My mother gave them to me when I took my vows.” 

“Vows?” Hunter’s voice sounded strained as his eyebrows rose. “What vows?” 

Ghost looked even more miserable, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, roughly rubbing away fresh tears. “I thought you would have recognized the uniform?” he said soft and unsure. “The white cloth Oak and I were wearing? I meant it when I said I’ve never hurt anyone. The Elders wouldn’t send priests to do that sort of thing.”

“Priests?” Hunter pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose as he grimaced. “I fucked a Penitent priest? You’re a priest?” He waved a hand vigorously, stopping any reply. “You know what, nevermind. We will discuss it some other time. Give those here. I won't throw them out, but you can't just walk around with those things. It’s the magical equivalent of a pipe bomb and you already almost blew us up once today."

"I didn't know." Ghost reluctantly placed the beads he'd already picked up into Hunter's palm, watched as he gathered up the rest, shoving them into his coat pocket. They indeed looked like polished bone, intricate geometric patterns drawn across each, some carved into the shapes of birds or animals. "I really didn't know."

"I believe you. Now seriously, if it's not too much trouble, can we please get the fuck out of here?"

*********  
There was no sun on their backs as they walked, the sky having gone ominous and overcast, the grey green color of concrete. They worked their way between boulders of sharp volcanic rock that gave way to gullies of dark old growth fir trees and ferns, moss covered logs and mushrooms. Occasionally, though a break in the trees, they saw the distant peaks of snow capped mountains.

Unaccustomed to hiking and having wholly unsuitable shoes, Ghost's feet blistered, burning constantly, his body aching all the way down to the bone. Exhausted, he stumbled onward, tripping more and more on roots and rocks the further the day wore on, swearing under his breath and trying to ignore his hunger. His mind seemed to float somewhere above his body at times, retreating from the trauma and physical discomfort, from dragons and the black hungry thing he carried in his soul.

He'd tried to put words to it when he had woken in the morning, seeking out the tune of his song, trying to find something familiar and good, but even that comfort seemed impossible now. And how could he dare do anything at all after the horror unleashed by a simple toss of his beads? He felt robbed of everything he'd thought to be true about himself. What would the Elders say? What would Sky say? If and when he ever saw them again.

In the late afternoon they cut down a hillside of pines, loose red soil and shrubbery. What had been a light morning drizzle was turning into an honest rainstorm, red earth caking and sticking to Ghost's boots as he skidded and flailed, attempting to keep up with Hunter's relentless pace. Just as he was thinking of protesting, suddenly the ground leveled off and they were standing on black pavement, a quiet two lane mountain road cutting through the forest. Ghost sighed in relief, just happy to have an easier path, but Hunter seemed agitated, scanning the tree line even as the downpour soaked through his clothes.

"Is something wrong?" Ghost asked, miserable and anxious, beginning to think there would be no end to his discomfort. "Do you even know where we are?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Look, if we run into anyone, stay back and let me do the talking okay?"

"No kidding."

He nodded and motioned for Ghost to follow him, walking along the shoulder of the road. "The Kingfishers have made a lot of enemies. I wouldn't be surprised if we run into trouble."

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Really? I can't imagine why. I mean, we've become such fast friends." He threw up his hands, rain soaked hair clinging to his face and neck. "And this little stroll has been fucking delightful. First time in Oregon and I can't imagine why I waited so long to visit." Hunter snorted. "Don't laugh. I'm probably going to die of exposure."

"Not if you keep moving, idiot."

Hunter stopped, pulling off his pack and Ghost frowned. "What happened to keep moving?" A moment later and he'd removed his jacket, draping it over Ghost's shoulders before settling his bag back into place.

"Ugh, I can't even explain what this thing smells like. Good thing I'm too exhausted to gag."

Hunter grabbed the front of his shirt yanking him forward until he stumbled. "You're no peach yourself. Come on princess. I still have the other half of Oregon to show you, chop chop."

The camper trailer really wasn't much to look at, a rundown 1980s thing parked in a ravine ten minutes walking from the road. But when Ghost saw it he could have wept. He didn't even complain when Hunter made him wait to check it before letting him inside.

It was dark and smelled of dust, the floor creaking with every step, but it was blessedly dry and that's all he really cared about at that point. A moment later and Hunter had lit a kerosene lantern, bathing the one room shelter in yellow light, revealing cheap laminate cupboards, a rusting sink and sagging orange couch.

Ghost sat with a groan, feeling every inch of abuse his body had taken in the last two days.  
"That couch folds out into a bed. I sincerely hope you aren't getting mud all over the place."

Ghost didn't bother opening his eyes as he spoke. "You've been here before? I'm not even the first victim you've dragged out to this seriously isolated murder shack? Hunter I'm hurt."

"We're not too far off from one of our larger farms. It's a strategic lookout post, or overnight stop for people traveling to and from with supplies."

"Should you really be sharing something like that with me?"

Hunter was checking the cupboards, pulling out things as he went. "Well we're headed there tomorrow so I don't really see the point in being coy about it."

"Ugh."

"That's the spirit. Hey check in those drawers over there. Should be some blankets and possibly a change of clothes." He pulled a jug of water from under the sink. "I've got soap and water and a couple cans of chicken noodle soup. Let's party."

Ghost winced and he stood, half limping the few feet to check the drawers that lined one wall of the compact camper. Kneeling he pulled out several folded blankets, towels and two pairs of brown men's coveralls. He sat down on the floor, hissing as he undid the laces on his shoes and slipped them off his feet.

"How bad," Hunter asked from behind him, closer than he'd realized, making him jump. "I noticed you favoriting your right foot earlier."

"I'll live."

"Here." He handed him a bar of soap and a rag, setting a pan filled with water on the floor next to him. "Get cleaned up and then we can eat." Almost beyond caring, Ghost removed his filthy, wet clothes, scrubbing at his skin and toweling off his hair. The well worn coveralls were too large, but they were also clean and dry, so he did his best to cuff the sleeves and legs, grateful for even a little relief from the chill. By the time he'd finished he noted that Hunter had also washed and changed, looking all the world like the scruffy mechanic in a cheap romance novel.

Ghost hung up his wet clothes and Hunter's jacket, wrapping a blanket around himself before returning to the couch. Hunter handed him an open can of soup, cold with a spoon in it and sat down next to him with a sigh. "Thanks."

Hunter gave him a nod and then stifled a yawn. "There's a first aid kit somewhere around here. After we pull out the bed I'll take a look at your feet."

Ghost frowned. The bed. Of course there would be only one bed. "I'm fine."

"Best not to let them get infected. We still have more hiking for the foreseeable future and I have no idea what we'll be walking into on the farm. Could be all hot showers and steak dinners or maybe a smoking rubble pile and everybody's throats slit. Had your people come to their point burning the warehouses or was that the beginning of the conversation?"

"I don't know. Sk-" he bit the inside of his cheek, hating the way Hunter watched him, trying to choose words carefully in his exhausted state. "I was sent to witness, not participate."

Hunter scoffed. "I think it's fair to say you're participating now." He gestured for him to stand, removing cushions and pulling the couch into a fold out bed that dominated most of the space. "And someone somewhere has made a fucking terrible miscalculation."

"What do you mean?"

Hunter picked up the remainder of the blankets and dumped them on the mattress. "First of all, I want to say that my brother Lance can occasionally be reasonable. He isn't sadistic, per se. I've seen him make plenty of concessions in order to save time, or money or lives or all three."  
There was something chilling about where this was going. 

"Okaaay," Ghost helped spread out two thin blankets and then the heavier quilt.

"But after what happened this week. It will be taken as an all out declaration of war. The Kingfishers didn't take the bulk of the Pacific Northwest by being afraid to shed blood. Your people will not find an unprepared enemy again and our retaliation will be breathtakingly ruthless."

"I…" Ghost swayed on his feet. Didn't he know the The Penitents stupidity first hand? How arrogant had they been to think that a surprise attack and the will of their gods would so easily overcome a territory so polluted with magic. Magic he'd only experienced in passing until now and had woefully underestimated. "You don't have to tell me about ruthlessness of the Kingfishers."

Hunter let out a barking laugh, the first aid kit already in his hands. "Sit down, Ghost." He shook his head, perching on the edge of the bed and taking one of his injured feet in his palm. "Believe me, by the Goddess, you don't. Our farmers were slaughtered like livestock." His fingers were cool and gentle as he spoke. "It's not something that will be forgiven and Lance will not rest until all traces of your people are erased from this earth, no matter the cost. Do you really think just because your family hides on their little sea ranch, pretending this blood isn't on their hands, they'll be spared?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear what you think so far. 
> 
> There will be an update of this story again next Friday. I also put up chapter 7 of Juicy Fruit on my patreon today. (https://www.patreon.com/blueghostghost)


	5. Blood Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the comments and the kudos! Hearing your thoughts on this fic is great.

Ghost shifted fitfully in his sleep, felt the brush of feathers against his skin and sighed, eyes fluttering. The sky outside was growing light, just beginning its slow creep into day. In his mind's eye he was suspended atop their tiny shelter, looking down on a flat, dirty roof and then rising, expanding outward above the tree line and further up the ravine. The air was bracingly cold and smelled of pines and rain. On the horizon there was a break in the clouds, a crack of light that promised relief from the weather by the afternoon.

And then he saw them there, the dark silhouettes of riders, three figures moving east, outlines of their horses against the predawn sky. An ominous feeling overtook him as the dragon lurched, coiling tight in his gut, his body thrumming with the unwelcome arousal brought on by magic. It was overwhelming, filling him and heating his blood until he felt like he might break apart. He groaned, gritting his teeth, writhing.

"What now?" Hunter asked, his voice still rough with sleep, their combined scent and body heat unsettling, reminding him of that first night under the man's control. He shivered and felt the dragon move through him again, an exquisite slide of scales and fire.

"Can you please control him?" Ghost moaned, sucking in air with a uncomfortable hiss. "Guh. Gods tell your stupid dragon to calm down."

"What's going on?" Hunter sounded more awake now, shifting beside him so that Ghost's body bounced on the musty mattress, the heat between them practically an inferno. The grip on his shoulder was too tight, face so close he could feel breath hot against his skin as Hunter spoke. "You're trembling."

Ghost swallowed, throat feeling dry and scratchy, the mushroomy wet smell of the trailer giving way to the more bodily one of salty sweat, laced with the smoky tang of dragon magic. Ghost felt his face flush with humiliation, the feeling going straight to his groin. A bad enough reaction under Sky's calculated abuse, but under these circumstance wholly unacceptable. "You can calm the fuck down too while you're at it," he snapped, swatting hands away and sitting up, pushing back the blankets and pressing fingers to his temples. "Nughh. I can feel your magic all over me like a bad cologne. How do you ever get used to this?"

"Practice."

He felt his temper rise. "I don't want to practice. I'd prefer not to so thoroughly degrade myself any further than I already have."

Hunter shrugged. "Then by all means, feel free to remain ignorant and continue to be my bitch. I honestly don't care." He felt him grip his dragon, pulling the magic back marginally, giving Ghost a little more room to think and breathe. "But do stop whining about it."  
Ghost blinked, scanning the room, no less dank in the growing morning light. "I saw someone coming. Like I was looking down from above. It was weird. They had horses and they felt...I don't' know," he frowned, "dangerous?."

"Son of a whore," Hunter swore, accidentally kneeing Ghost in the side as he tore from the bed. "How many were there?"

"I don't know," he lied. "It was dark and honestly it was probably just a dream."

"Just a dream huh?" Hunter gave him a pointed look. "Does that really resonate with our recent series of goddamn events?" He was dressing quickly, pulling on his coat and boots. "It figures you'd be a veritable pinata of magical abilities, a couple of whacks and all sorts of fun shit starts falling out. I don't suppose you've had any past clairvoyant episodes you'd like to share with the class?"  
"No."  
"Of course not." Hunter ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, these are some trying fucking times, kiddo. Horses you said? Shit. Just be quiet and stay inside," he ordered.

"Why? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to look into it. You stay here and let me handle this. Or so help me."

"I got it, thanks." Ghost waited until he heard the door slam shut before reaching for his own shoes, still feeling sick and shaky as he contemplated his next move. This could be it, his opportunity to run, the distraction that allowed him to get far enough away from Hunter he wouldn't be able to drag him back. And if he did run where exactly did he intend to go, miles from civilization and reeking of magical contamination? Would he ever be able to shove this curse down far enough to even consider going home? To ever claim to be a priest of his order again? He ran fingers through his tangled hair, pulling it back and tying it up out of his face as best he could. He looked around the room one last time, making up his mind. Exiled from his chosen life or not, he had no intention of passively accepting this bastard's control. It was time to run.

The air was chill as he stepped outside, his head buzzing furiously with the crackle of magic. The sun had truly begun its climb into the sky, lighting the world in its orange glow. He took in the thick greenery of damp forest, the eerie silence save for the chirping of birds and the rustling of branches. Wherever Hunter had gone off to, he'd left the front side of the camper unwatched and that was all the invitation Ghost needed to flee, ignoring the sting of his raw feet and achy muscles as he pushed on, putting as much distance between himself and Hunter as he possibly could.

He'd made about half the sprint back towards the road when the horses broke through the undergrowth, forcing him to stumble back. His heart leapt into his throat, a heavy thudding filling his ears as he took in the strangers. There was a wildness about these men, faces half covered in bushy beards and long unkempt hair. They wore mud caked hunting camouflage, skin browned from days spent in the sun and wind, a sheen of sweat from the early morning ride. One held a shotgun, another seemed content to display a sizable buck knife on his belt. A look of surprise crossed their faces at the sight of Ghost.

"Who the fuck are you?" The one with the gun asked.

"Lost. I'm lost," he stuttered.

The riders exchanged glances, something passing silently between them. Ghost felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Then why are you running little mouse?" asked a man with a white jagged scar across one cheek, eyes moving over Ghost suspiciously. "Where are you coming from? Where are you going?" One of the horses whinnied, throwing its head in agitation and shifting its feet as if it could feel the tension in the air.

"Listen to me. There is a very dangerous man in these woods. I'm trying to get back to the road, but I don't have much time." He scanned the tree line, feeling queasy. Where had Hunter gone off to anyway? "I can't really explain it, but we are all fucked if he finds you here." He reached inside, tentative, feeling the ripple of dragon magic. Please, he begged internally, stay down just a little longer lizard, give me the time to escape this nightmare. "And he isn't far behind me."

"He's lying," spat the third man. He was missing two front teeth, making a whistling sound as he talked. "Whatever he's up to, he doesn't want us to know about it. Probably works on the farm they've been running up the mountain, look at how he's dressed." He gave Ghost another slow, appraising look. "You shouldn't be out here all alone. These woods aren't safe for a little field mice like you." The others laughed.

Ghost glared. "These woods aren't safe for anyone as long as Hunter Kingfisher is wandering them."

"Oh really?" The man with the gun perked up at the mention of Hunter's name and Ghost immediately regretted saying it. "Lance's attack dog is here? Looking for you? Well now, isn't that a fascinating tale." He shifted his weapon and scratched at his beard. "Now I heard those Kingfisher boys went and got their warehouses burnt to the ground and a whole lot of blood spilt. Messy fucking business. I guess Lance isn't as invincible as he likes to believe."

Oh fuck. Stupid, so very stupid. "I wouldn't know anything about that," Ghost said, sounding uncertain.

"Of course not," he replied in a mocking tone. "So tell me this then, what do you think Hunter will do for us to get his little mousy back?" Ghost made a rough noise in the back of his throat and bolted to his left, feet scrambling over uneven ground as he sprinted back towards the treeline. He felt sick with panic, the horror of what was happening sinking into his bones.

"Nuhh!" He grunted as hoofbeats followed him and he was seized roughly by the hair, thrashing in the grip that wrapped around his middle, momentarily lifting his feet from the ground, his body pressed against a wall of horseflesh.

"Now, now settle down," said the man with the scar, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "You're just making things harder on yourself."

"You idiots. There is evil here you can't begin to understand." Ghost hissed between grit teeth, feet kicking uselessly as the man dismounted from his horse, never loosening his grip on Ghost. He stank of sweat and blood, of animal and campfires.

"Settle down." He felt the blunt end of the man's knife pressed to his side. "It's been a hungry, miserable few weeks. Fuck Hunter. He's a stuck up city brat anyway. Maybe I just want a little fun. How much does it take to make you squeal, huh?" No no no, not again. Ghost made a small sound of pain as his hair was tugged back, exposing the line jugular.

The air above them slowly went spotted with black shapes, the faint throaty calls growing louder as the great black birds filled the trees and rocky outcroppings surrounding them. The ground beneath his feet thrummed, snapping and electric with power. His body was already responding, aroused and prickled with a cold sweat. Ghost could feel the dragon ripple through him, gathering energy, emerging bit by bit as it awaited the bidding of its master.

"Please," he whimpered, eyes prickling with tears. He felt them slide down his cheeks leaving hot lines of salt. "These mountains have seen enough blood."

"You're rattling like a leaf," the man snorted. "Superstitious, boy. They are just birds to me. These are our woods and no Kingfisher is going to tell us otherwise." But there was an edge of unease in his voice, as dangerous as a cornered animal.

Suddenly his captor swore as Hunter appeared from a crop of trees, leaning casually against the trunk of a pine, arms folded across his chest. "I thought I told you to stay inside."

Ghost scoffed, ignoring the bruising grip that held him in place. "And miss getting to know these rude toad fuckers? Perish the thought."

"Ah yes, the Lupine brothers." Hunter sighed. "A few rounds with them and I think you'll be far more appreciative of my company. Sadists every one of them."

"Hang the lot of you."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Hello Rileigh. How's your mother these days? Or is she your aunt? Do you pick just one when they're one and the same?"

"Go to hell," Raleigh snarled back. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here."

"I'm about to show you a lot more than that if you don't behave."

"As if we don't know what's happened," said the man with the gun. "We see you licking your wounds and slinking around with your tail tucked between your legs. One more step and Raleigh will gut your boyfriend like a fish."

Hunter didn't change the relaxed slump of his body, but his tone was pure ice. "Well now Micah, he's none of your fucking business and he's mine, so I will be taking him with me. You and your mongrels can crawl back to wherever your degenerate pack is holed up these days and we can forget this ever happened. But if you make me exert myself I will be very unpleasant about it."

"We're keeping him." Raleigh yanked Ghost's arm and he cringed at the rough treatment, every ache from the last few days protesting.

"Guh. Stop it, you son of a whore." He was cuffed up side the head hard enough to make his ears ring. Hot magic rolled in his gut making him feel both sick and restless, the dragon rising to the surface-all teeth and hungry claws. It was like having fire just under his skin and he shuddered at the feeling.

"You want him back? Go talk to Lance about us getting our fair tribute. You've been playing king of the Willamette a little too long l think," said the man Hunter had called Micah.

Ghost let out a choking laugh. "As if he gives two shits what happens to me. He'd just assume kill me himself. You really are stupid." He was spun around suddenly, so that he was looking up into dark, angry eyes. Raleigh's hair fell in thick, greasy knots. This close the scar was impressive, deeply grooved and pinkish white from nose to ear.

Hunter immediately uncoiled from his relaxed position, shoulders tight. "Think this through. We can all still walk away."

"Your boy has a mouth." Raleigh pinched Ghost cheeks harshly with thick dirty fingers, making his eyes water as he pressed the cold edge of the blade against his lips.

"He does, but since when were you the sensitive type?"

"Maybe after what you let happen to Amy. Maybe I go to fucking pieces over every little thing hmm? And maybe you can have your boy back in little pieces. Let's start with his tongue right now." He pressed harder and Ghost tasted blood, felt a rolling wave of dread run through his body..

"Look," Hunter said, quickly, tone firm. "Let's talk about the bigger picture. Your people used to work security for us. Lord knows we could use a little ruthlessness in the coming months and there will be plenty of cash to go along with it. You're right, we're in a tight spot. There's plenty of gain to be had at our expense."

The man with the missing teeth shook his head. "A job offer? Really? After everything that happened in Salem?"

Hunter gave a nonchalant shrug. "What can I say? I'm a forgiving kind of soul."

"Forgiveness?" Raleigh gave a snort, eyes cold as stones as he looked at Ghost. "You have a lot of nerve. Go fuck yourself Kingfisher."

He heard Hunter's roar of protest as the blade slid down and deep into Ghost's gut, burning hot, like it was being forged anew inside his body, a searing pain that blurred his vision and stole his breath away. He let out a soft gasp as it withdrew and he slid to his knees, hands going instinctually to the growing wet spot in his coveralls, his fingers slippery with hot blood, life blood.

Ghost could feel the life force draining away, sinking into the soil, swallowed up by the cold mountains, the taste of coppery bile in his throat. His head swam and his consciousness floated somewhere just outside his body so that he was aware, but not aware of his surroundings, the crack of gunshots filled his ears, the smell of powder, but it felt abstract, too earthy and solid. He had experienced the death of so many before him and there was a comfort in the familiarity of the thing, even if this time it was his own.

He sensed the ravens, like so many sentinels standing watch over the vale, a chattering guard between this world and the next,, drawing him to them, calling him home. So this was his destiny, he thought bitterly, to die witch cursed and far from everything he once knew, for his soul to drift away like so much smoke in a land that would not have him.

The dragon shuttered, agitated and pacing and it occurred to him the Hunter hadn't yet called it to his aide. Was he hurt? Why did he even care if he was? He closed his eyes and swayed, swallowing with a mouth painfully dry, the life draining from him in gushes. "Go on then," he croaked out. "Go to your master. There is no point in sparing my strength and I'd prefer to die with some other memory than your foul spirit clattering through me. GO," he ordered, shoving as much of his will into it as he could. He felt the rush of blue flame run up his middle, fanning out his shoulder blades and the top of his head, the whoosh of breath-warm air against his face as the beast took flight, instantly snapping up the last of his reserves, tearing soul neatly from body.  
Ghost tumbled into darkness, into the embrace of something blacker than night, like a great gaping mouth poised to devour him whole. And then there was the promise of nothing and nothing and still more nothingness. He paused there, dissolved, disassembled, let go. He could barely sense the outline the birds now, imagine the ascent of the blue scaled dragon into the air. 

He tried to think of his prayers then, humble words he said so many times on his knees in temple. He had tried to be good, admired for the path he had walked without appearing to falter. On his knees for Sky in secret, smell of him pressed close and the burn as his mouth was stretched wide and roughly fucked, fingers tangled in his hair. Was he arrogant or weak to steal such meaningless pleasures? To cling to them still, even as they left him bitter and sad? 

Suddenly he jerked, filling with an instinctive dread, what was left of his conscious mind fighting with the panicked thrashing of a man moments before he succumbs to drowning. It felt wrong. No. Not like this. He didn't want to die like this! He wanted to live. His soul clawed for release and if he'd had a voice he would have screamed until his throat bled. He called one last time to his foreign gods, for the ravens that shadowed him, for that damn dragon, for the mercy of a cursed goddess that saw fit to torture him for invading her homeland. 

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I want to live.

He reached out, a tiny tendril in the blankness that had enveloped him, he reached out and pulled the threads of hot beating life towards him, into him. It came in a rush, a feeding of vitality and power, thundering through him as sharp as the blade that had almost cleaved him from the world of the living.


	6. Lost souls

Hunter lunged, hitting the ground and barely avoiding the shot Micah aimed at his head. There was a cracking sound as shards of tree bark flew into the air. He rolled, pulling himself up and dashing for cover, his anger hot and knotted in his gut as his dragon magic begged to be untethered, to tear and burn its way through these indignities. He could still feel the faint pulse of Ghost like a dying ember on the other side of the clearing, a fading wispy thing he expected to go out at any moment. Fuck. 

Against his better judgement he fed him a little more of his own strength through the bond, giving as much as he dared to sustain the lagging life force a little longer. He was no healer and his efforts were crude at best—more than likely a waste of precious resources as the kid liberally bled through the front of his coveralls and out onto the forest floor. Why he cared in the first place was beyond him. In fact, the magnitude of his rage shocked him. He should be focused on getting out of this shit-show alive by any means possible, but instead he wanted retribution, to see these flea bitten mutts pay for what they’d done to Ghost, to see them suffer for it. The notion unsettled him. 

“Aww, is it sad seeing your little field mouse leaking all over the place? What’s the matter Kingfisher, were you still playing with him?” Rileigh licked his lips, eyes darting to follow Hunter’s movement. “I wish I’d had the time to make him squeal first, make you listen to him beg. Shame, really.” 

Hunter growled baring his teeth and straining to keep his magic in check. “You never did know how to control an a bad impulse, Lee.” He'd have to call up his dragon soon, abandon Ghost to his cold darknesses and pull what was left into his own defense. Still grinning Caleb turned to say something to Micah and Hunter took his opportunity, slipping out the knife he usually kept in his boot, flicking it with a practiced motion, watching placidly as it found its mark with a twack, embedding itself deeply in Caleb’s throat. He made a wet gurgling sound, stumbling like a drunk as the others began to shout curses. 

Suddenly, there was the rush of hot magic, a sharp smell of burning pine in the air. His dragon burst forward, wild, wings pumping and teeth flashing, singing the trees and making the air snap with hot magic. Normally bringing forward it’s full form would have cost him dearly, knocked him on his ass for days, but it held easily, scales glinting in the sunlight coming through the trees, the power flowing through him like water. The brothers cried out in cold dread as the ravens rose to the sky in an inky mass, a backdrop of night against blue fire. Flames roared in Hunter’s ears, his own power feeding into that of Ghost’s, that raw hungry darkness. He stumbled back, disoriented by the fact that someone other than him had brought out his dragon and he struggled to bring it under his control again, whispering calming, coaxing words in the wake of desperate fury. 

Then just as abruptly the men around him begin to collapse, dropping like limp dolls, eyes glazed, an awful bloody foam bubbling up and pouring from nose and mouth as their eyes rolled up into their skulls. To his great horror he felt their deaths, swooning under the rolling waves of power, the extinguishment of each life fed him, zipping through his body before settling in his bonded counterpart on the other side of the clearing. Hunter’s stomach lurched and he doubled over, empting what little was in his gut onto the grass, nauseous and dizzy.

Holy Goddess. He took in the gruesome scene in shock, vision blurring as snot and tears ran down his face, the smell of blood and the men’s shit and his vomit threatening to make him gag again. Dragon magic was volatile, hard to manifest, certainly not for the weak, but whatever the fuck just happened here was something else entirely, so beyond him it chilled him to the bone. His head swam as he struggled to force fresh air into his lungs, to think clearly. 

Hunter wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, listening to the panting of his own breath, suddenly absurdly loud to his own ears. “Stand down dragon,” he gasped, finally slowing pulling his magic back under his control. “Ok. It’s ok.” He stood, and when landing back on his ass didn’t seem eminent, made his way towards Ghost, hating the sharp edge of fear that still crawled in his gut. The boy’s body was stiff and pale where it lay crumpled, his coveralls stiff with drying blood. He lay on his back, blue eyes wide and blank as they stared at the canopy of trees above them. A thrum of shock ran through Hunter when those eyes blinked, lids fluttering briefly on that frozen face. Could it be possible? Was Ghost still alive? 

“Hey,” he said, dropping to his knees, pressing his palm to his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall of breath. “Ghost can you hear me?” He hated that uncertain edge to his voice, recented himself deeply for being afraid of his own captive. “I’m going to check you over ok?” he said, trying to keep his tone even and calm as he reached for the zipper of the overalls. Ghost’s eyes snapped to his, hand reaching up and snatching him by the wrist in a claw-like grip. He stared at him for a moment, eyes filling with tears that rolling down the sharp angle of his cheeks freely. 

“Are they dead?” he whispered, taking a shuddering breath. 

“Yes and you’re not.” 

He licked his lips nervously hand releasing Hunter’s wrist and wiping furiously at his face. “I’ve never hurt anyone like that before. I’m... I’m a monster.”

Hunter shrugged. “To be fair if you’re a monster, so were they. Go ahead and cry, but don’t waste any tears on those perverted bastards. You’re lucky they didn’t take their time with you.”

Their eyes met, something lost and helpless in Ghost’s expression. He really did still look like a little boy sometimes. “Like you did?” 

He didn’t bother denying it. “Should have kept to your hypocrisy and condemnation from afar, I guess, Priest of The Penitent. Now let me look at that stab wound huh?” 

Ghost shuttered, shaking his head back and forth. “No. Don’t touch me.” 

“Oh for fuck sake…” whatever Hunter had thought to say next was cut off abruptly as Ghost moved, arm swinging, eyes set with murderous intention, Raleigh's blood caked knife clutched in his hand. Hunter saw the glint of metal, a flash in the sunlight, felt the agitated flair of his dragon. He moved fast, hissing as the blade grazed his shoulder, tearing through the fabric and causing a hot burn that ran deep. 

He snarled and grabbed Ghost by the length of his white hair, swearing and slamming his head down into the dirt, maneuvering him roughly face down as he swung up and pinned him there, straddling his thighs. Ghost kicked uselessly, whining as Hunter pried the blade from his hand and tossed it away.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, blood pounding in his ears and already half hard at the feel of the hot, lithe body beneath him, the memories of what he’d already done when Ghost was completely under his control, those violations that would never wash clean between them. In all honesty he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him, his body aroused and angry, and treating a near dead Ghost with less care than he should, even if the little shit had attacked him. He leaned in, pressed his lips close to his ear. “Ghost stop. I don’t want to beat you, but I will, if only to try to knock some sense into you.” 

“It was nothing personal, witch,” Ghost snarled, still uselessly struggling to get out from under Hunter’s weight. He didn’t seem to be actively dying, but whatever energy he had mustered was more or less spent, his body finally going lax.

Hunter snorted, fingering the bloody remnants of his sleeve where Ghost had managed to cut him. “Funny, it feels kinda personal.” 

“He stabbed me because of you! All of this was because of you. I was just forwarding the message.” Ghost let out a deep sigh that was close to being a sob. “Get off of me.” 

“Don’t try something like that again.” Hunter resisted the urge to let his hands wander, studying the matted mess of Ghosts once carefully braided hair instead. “You done being foolish?” 

“Get fucked by wild dogs.” 

Hunter rolled off of him, giving his ass a hard swat in reprimand.“You have a dirty mouth for a supposedly religious man.” Ghost sat up, glaring at him hatefully, a fresh bruise forming on his cheek where Hunter had slammed him down. He was filthy, sticks and leaves in his hair, face a pattern of tear stains, cuts and grime. He was also soaked through with enough blood the coveralls would probably stand up on their own when it finished drying. It would have been almost comical if their situation wasn’t so dire. “Now open up that jumper so I can take a look.” 

“Like hell.” He pointed an accusatory finger. “You stay away from me. You’re well past having any right to touch me. I wish I’d put that knife in your heart. It’s what you’d deserve for what you’ve turned me into.” 

Hunter almost laughed. Turned me into. And what was a fitting punishment for what he’d done? For the gruesome fury he’d awakened in a sweet-faced witch burner from the south? He had a sinking feeling he was eventually going to find out, all his sins laid out in excruciating detail. 

Hunter reached out, fisted the coveralls and yanked him close so fast Ghost reflexively put his hands on his chest to steady himself. He smelled like blood and sweat, wood smoke and something rich and sweet like beeswax. “I don’t know about deserve,” Hunter said, wrenching the zipper down to his crotch, palming the smooth skin of his belly where the knife went in, fingers tracing the jagged pink scar he found there. “But you’re mine until I say otherwise and that means you do as I say, when I say it. And I told you to stay in the trailer.” 

The sudden slap across his face stung, making Hunter’s eyes water. Ghost threw himself back, righting his clothes, face flushed red and furious. “And I said don’t touch me.” Hunter growled lunging for him as he scrambled to get away, struggling to his feet and stumbling back, movements clumsy. 

“Just so you know, I plan on making you regret that,” Hunter said eyes narrowing as he stalked towards him. “You may have cheated death, but you still belong to my dragon, sweetheart.”

“No, stay away from me you cursed pig fucker.” Ghost shook his head, backing away as Hunter called up his magic, let the dragon slide through Ghost, making him shiver and grit his teeth. “I fucking hate you.” 

“Good.”

Ghost’s legs tangled with dead limbs as he tripped over Raleigh’s body, falling on top of it awkwardly. He pushed himself up, taking in the deadman’s face with a look of horror. He let out a broken scream, eyes screwing shut as he collapsed, curling in on himself, body wracked with sobs. “No, no, no…I can’t, I can’t. It’s too horrible.” 

“Don’t look,” Hunter ordered, kneeling next to him. “Idiot,” but the word didn’t have any of the heat he had intended, his anger cooling at just how fucking pathetic Ghost looked. “I told you the Lupine brothers are not worth your tears. But they do have kin that will come looking. I’ll have to burn the bodies and then we can go.” 

Ghost still didn’t open his eyes. “I can’t control it. What if this happens again? Or something like yesterday?”

“I can keep you in line through the bond for now.” So far that task had felt a bit like trying to wrestle a black and feral tornado of death, but what other choice did they have? Goddess save them if the kid had been leashed by anything less formidable than his dragon magic. 

Ghost blinked up at him, keeping his head turned away from the body that lay next to him. “Pure arrogance. I should know. I’ve had plenty of my own.” 

“Hah.” Hunter stood, brushing himself off. “I’m a Kingfisher, it’s part of the package.” He offered a hand and to his surprise Ghost took it, letting him help him to his feet. “Do you think you can catch the horses while I clean this up? I could have happily skipped this entire debacle, but I won’t say no to taking a break from walking.”

“Alright.”

“Also while you’re at it, check the packs for fresh clothes. You look like an extra in a zombie movie.” 

Ghost gave his injured shoulder a light jab. “You’re hilarious, really.” 

Hunter swatted him away. “Quit fucking around and do your damn job. I want to get some miles between here and us before nightfall.” 

“You’ll get no argument from me about that.” Ghost caught the reins of the first horse with ease, making coaxing clicking sounds and moving with practiced skill, petting and speaking in soothing tones until the animal went easily. Hunter had to force himself to look away and do his part to get them gone. 

********

They stopped at dusk when they came to a creek where the horses could drink. “Might as well camp for the night,” Hunter said. “I don’t relish riding into an unknown situation in the dark.” 

“Alright,” Ghost agreed easily. “How much further is it to the farm?” He idly stroked the flank of his mount as he spoke. Horses he liked without complication and he found comfort in something so familiar. 

“Probably about three more hours if we make good time. Unpack the bedrolls and I’ll start a fire.” Ghost moved stiffly. He felt beaten within an inch of his life, every muscle protesting, his face swollen and stinging, each step an agony. He wore a dead man's clothes, too big on his slight frame, but they were warm and dry, smelling of nothing more offensive than his own sweat and horse. If wearing them felt strange, he tried not to think about it overmuch. 

Ghost threw down the bedrolls, sitting on one of them and watching as Hunter used his dragon magic to bring the wood he’d gathered to life, the flames burning blue before settling into a crackling orange, felt the tingle of magic and the use of energy through the bond, the dragon running over his already frayed nerves. By the gods he ached, over magiced and suffering from a startling amount of physical abuses, only alive because his own curse had yanked him back from the verge of death. When this was all over he could happily sleep for a month. 

After a moment Ghost cleared his throat. “That uh,” he looked away as he spoke, unable to meet Hunter’s eye. “Uh that first morning you made some shortgrass tea…” 

“I did,” his tone was flat and Ghost could feel his face go hot, humiliation warring with every ache, the shaky rolling feeling in his stomach. 

“Do you…could...shit.” He went to brush the hair from his face and grimaced at the ratted mess.

Hunter dropped the saddle bag he’d been rummaging through. “For crying out loud, what Ghost? Just come out with it. Since when have you ever held your damn tongue about anything?” 

“Oh get fucked.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “My current options are you or the horses. I respectfully decline as I rather appreciated the horses today and wouldn’t want to cause them any offense. Is there something else I can help you with or shall I go back to making our dinner?”

“Do you maybe have a little more?” And honestly, why did asking make him practically want to melt into the ground? “Shortgrass, I mean. I’m...uncomfortable.” 

Hunter snorted. “I imagine you must be. I can make you tea or I have papers.” 

“Oh. Paper please.” Hunter nodded and got the leather pouch from his pack, sitting next to Ghost on the other bedroll, legs kicked out as he arranged things on his lap.

“Shall I roll it?”

“Yes.”

He made the little line of herb before licking the edge of the paper, rolling it with skilled efficiency. “It helps with the Magics too,” he said, putting the joint in his own mouth and lighting it with blue flame, taking a deep inhale before passing it over. “When the dragon gets to be a bit too much, it eases some of the edges.”

“I know,” Ghost said sheepishly, voice hardly more than a whisper. He took a long drag, letting the smoke curl out of his mouth slowly. “I’ve used it before, when I’ve felt like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.” 

“Figures.” Hunter plucked the joint from his fingers, taking another hit before handing it back. “You’ve been a witch the whole time, no denying it now.” Ghost could feel the worst of his pain start to recede, the vice grip that had been around his skull for the better part of the day fading to a dull throb. 

“Mmm. Not by my way of seeing it.” He wanted to ask about tomorrow, about what would happen to him once Hunter was reunited with his people, but he was so very tired and none of the possible answers brought him any comfort, just an endless array of options that went from bad to far worse. Instead he turned to Hunter and made a different request. “Would you cut my hair?” 

He looked surprised. “Your hair? Are you sure?”

He gave a shrug. “It’s in the way and I don’t imagine spending my coming mornings making intricate braids full of priest beads. I’d have it gone if you’re willing.”

“I can get you a hairbrush if that’s your worry.” 

He shook his head. “My mind’s made up.” 

“Why does this feel like yet another violation to your person?” Hunter used a razor to cut away the tangled mass, tossing clumps of white hair into the fire as he worked. When he had finished it ended just below his ears. Ghost shook his head, working out the last of the knots with his fingers, feeling somewhat lighter, even if the feeling of dread still lingered in his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the comments. Please keep them coming! Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writing blog where I tend to whine about trying to finish stuff


	7. Farmland

“Today you will not speak unless I expressly tell you to and you will follow any and all instructions that I give you without question.” Well somebody was in a mood. 

Ghost was chewing a mouthful of oatmeal and apple, courtesy of the recently departed Lupine brothers, and he decided to swallow it before he replied, his irritation kicking up with the unprovoked admonishment. “Sure.”

“Don’t tell me ‘sure.’ I’m fucking serious and I expect you to actually do it.”

He rolled his eyes, putting down his spoon. “Yeah. You’re in charge, I get it. If I need to take a piss or sneeze or whatever, I’ll let you know.  _ Happy _ ?” 

Hunter didn’t look happy, his whole body vibrating with tension. “I think we can both agree to at least try to avoid a repeat of yesterday.” 

Ghost shrugged. “I don’t know why you need to be so specific. I honestly can’t imagine wanting to repeat  _ any _ of our days together.” It felt like a lifetime ago that he had stood above the burning warehouses trying his best to demean Oak. He’d been raped and witch cursed, beaten and nearly murdered. He was still shackled to his tormentor and increasingly terrified to try to manage his confounding and dangerous magics without him. If Ghost lived long enough to ever look in a mirror, he doubted he would recognize the man that looked back. 

“What can I say? I’m ever an optimist that there may, in fact, be an end to this relentless nightmare.” 

“For you maybe.”

Hunter studied him for a moment, frown deepening. “Just try to resist running head first into danger, or stabbing anyone, or conjuring some unspeakable soul eating darkness. I’m sure I’ve left a few things out. You’re very inventive when courting disaster.” 

He sneered back. “Sure thing, boss. Do I get to make any counter requests about where a certain witch sticks his dragon?” 

“No. Also get those dishes cleaned up and start packing up the gear. I want to get moving.”  

Ghost had spent all of his life attending to his faith, to prayer and song, to the immortal legacy of his people and the banishment of the dark sins of the world. He was a priest of The Penitent--no small thing. He’d thought himself good at it, making his family and mentors radiate with pride. He wondered now if he’d worked a little too hard to appear to be all the things he thought he should be, cultivating a facade of chaste beauty and poise, when underneath roiled a mix of death and fleshy desire, the hot pulse of blood in his ears when he submitted to Sky’s rough abuse, when he felt the little trickles of power that came with the snuffing out of a life. Hunter had called it hypocrisy and that bastard didn’t know the half of it. And what would become of him now? He was tainted beyond any clear path home, instead heading towards an unknown that promised to be both terrifying and humiliating. 

Still he dutifully did his dumb part to bring on his own demise, scrubbing out the pot from breakfast and neatly putting everything away in the saddle bags. They rode up the mountainside with relative ease, their animals used to rougher terrain than this and most likely less forgiving speeds. The road they veered off onto was dirt, but well maintained, lined with little gullies of fern on either side of it, the thick forest casting purplish shadow in the early morning fog. He was getting used to the wet mulch smell of the forest, the way the damp seemed to sink into his pores and cling to his skin. 

Hunter’s mood remained tense and he was snappish, scowling at the landscape as if it had personally offended him. “We’ll go up the back way,” he told Ghost. “If things seem off, turn back for the cover of the trees.” 

“Mmhm,” he said, still lost in his own thoughts and, continuing his avoidance of conflict by simply agreeing to whatever Hunter said. He considered as they rode. What would he do if The Penitents had reached this far? The idea made his stomach churn, the thought of more killing leaving him breathless with fear. Would he dare to try to hide his taint? Would he try to escape into the forest, into the arms of Elder Sky’s bloodthirsty army? Surely they knew by now that he had gone missing. Had they found Oak’s body? Had they searched for him? Ghost shivered, feeling something ugly brewing in his gut, the idea of seeing Sky again making his sky crawl. “Hunter?”

“What?” The man was studying the horizon. Their path had flattened out, smoothing into fields and hillsides. There was what appeared to be a cluster of buildings in the far distance, smoke curling lazily into the air. 

“When uh…” He hesitated, having to force himself to speak his thoughts out loud. “When The Penitent came...I felt those deaths...intensely, all those lives all at once. And that was before.” Hunter was focused on him now. “If that happened again, the way I am now, I don’t know how I’d react. I fear finding out.”

“I felt it through the bond when those boys died. It wasn’t pleasant. If things go to shit, I’ll try to push most of the power into the dragon. He can handle it and I can handle him.” 

“Okay, but what should I do?” He hated how childish he sounded, like a frightened little boy to his ears. 

“Try to stay calm and not do something stupid.” 

Ghost glared, pulling his horse to a stop. “It’s your stupidity that’s the reason I’m here in the first place.”

Hunter brought his horse alongside him. “True enough. I’m not trying to argue with you.” 

“Says the man that scolds me like a child, after showing me hell and watching me twist with the agony of it.”

“There was plenty of hell and agony on that killing field too. There will most certainly be more, whether your people come to us or Lance eventually sends me to them.”

Ghost threw up his hands, making his horse snort and stamp its feet before he grabbed the reins again. “I don’t have the stomach for it. I can’t believe that the gods I was raised to love could want such a thing from me either.”  _ Sky wanted it _ , his mind prodded, but he pushed that thought away, grimacing at the way it made him ache. “I thought I could watch witches burn and the wicked driven from their lands, but I’m not that kind of man.”

Hunter gave a humorless laugh. “Someday perhaps we’ll talk about the irony of your renouncement of death, but not right now. You’re afraid. It’s been a rough couple of days and the idea of taking another round of shit has us both on edge. I’m sure it’s just me being overly cautious though. Everything will be alright. Now come on.” He set his horse back into another easy canter, once more moving down the road ahead of them. Ghost followed him scowling, not liking that he seemed to be seeking his comfort from the devil himself these days. And who the fuck was Hunter to tell him  _ everything will be alright _ .

In the end it was hard to believe that there was an out and out turf war happening a valley over. As they approached the shortgrass fields, a handful of workers were bent over the neat rows with work gloves, moving methodically down the lines. To Ghost’s semi-trained eye it looked like they were heading for the spring harvest soon. The sun had broken through the morning cloud cover, pouring sunlight on this spread of green earth, making the puddles around an old chicken coop glisten enough to make Ghost squint. 

The road went paved and they brought their horses to a trot, Hunter’s hand resting on the shotgun he’d taken off one of the bodies with casual readiness. 

“Aye is that you Mr. Kingfisher?” a straw haired girl in overalls called out to them. She put down the basket she’d been carrying and jogged up to meet them on the road. She smiled warmly. “Not the face we were expecting to see, but a very welcome one, sir. Papa is up at the house having lunch.” 

Hunter’s face broke into a genuine smile then. “It’s good to see you too, Millie. No trouble here then?”

Her expression grew somber. “Things have been quiet, but we’re supposed to get more security from Portland any day now. It’s just horrible about the warehouses, sir. My cousin was there.” She shook her head, eyes sad. “His mother is devastated.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve just come from that direction ourselves and are anxious to report what we’ve seen.” 

“You poor souls,” she gasped. “I can’t even imagine. You’ve been riding here all these days then?”

“Walking mostly. Excuse me, I think I’d best go talk to you father. The sooner I’ve seen to my business, the sooner we can enjoy your hospitality.” They approached a white farmhouse with yellow roses in the front garden, a barn and a series of what looked like cabins behind it. 

Hunter dismounted and Ghost did the same, taking in the house and surrounding area. “Wait here with the horses,” He pushed his reins into Ghost’s hands making him frown. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Fine, but you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” 

Hunter turned back on his heal, eyes narrowing. “I’m sorry, princess, did I offend you?” 

“Oh for shit sake!” Ghost made a shooing gesture. “Just go! Start gloriously unfucking your life. I’ll wait here.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “With the horses,” he added. 

Hunter made a rude gesture as he ascended the steps to the house. Alone, Ghost tried not to let his mind whirr with anxiety, tried not to believe that once they had well and truly made it to safety he would have outlived his usefulness. A few minutes later Hunter returned smugly triumphant and with a young man in tow. 

“Jerry is going to stable the horses and destroy the packs. I’d prefer to distance ourselves from the Lupine boys as much as possible. They have kin in this area. Was there anything you particularly wanted to keep?”

Surprised, Ghost shook his head. “No, nothing.” 

“I figured as much.” He nodded. “As soon as someone is available I want those ponies as far away from here as possible.” He clapped Jerry on the shoulder and then turned back to Ghost. “I need to radio Lance. They’re having lunch in the dining room, come on.” Dazed, Ghost let Jerry take the reins of the horses, following after Hunter up the stairs of the wide front porch and into the house. 

The interior was well cared for if simple, but the furniture was heavy polished wood and looked well made. A row of hooks by the front door held coats, a line of muddy work boots beneath them. There was also the rich smell of cooking in the air, garlic, butter, meat. The hearty fair favored by folks that made their living in manual labor and needed the energy. He’d grown up with the same on the ranch and it made him all but groan after days of hard hiking and little to eat. 

“Through here.” Hunter took him by the elbow, leading Ghost down the hall. A dozen or so people sat around a long table chatting idly over their meal, but they went silent, all eyes on them as they entered the room. Ghost felt a flush creeping into his face, his stomach suddenly churning with nerves. A grey haired, broad shouldered man at the head of the table stood. 

“This is Ghost,” Hunter said plainly. 

“Welcome, Ghost,” said the man, crossing the room and extending a hand. Ghost took it, shaking it and trying not to look completely bewildered--this being the last possible greeting he had expected to receive at the farm outpost of his enemy. “Name’s Neiman. I won’t overwhelm you with a room full of introductions just now. Hunter said y’all have had a hard time of it and by the look of you he wasn’t exaggerating.” He grinned. “When he strolled in here a couple of minutes ago, easy as you please, you could have knocked me over with a feather. But that’s a Kingfisher for you. Never short on surprises.” 

Ghost had to suppress the laugh that was promising to turn hysterical. “That’s one way of putting it.” 

Neiman chuckled. “Well whatever trials our Mother Goddess sent your way, we sure are grateful to have a dragon grace our door. I’m just sorry such a terrible tragedy is the cause. Anything you need, you just ask me or my girl Millie and we’ll do our best to make you at home here.”

By the heat in his face he knew he was blushing in a mix of confusion and deep shame. Clearly Hunter had said very little about the stranger he’s dragged into their midst. “Thank you, that’s very kind.” How much hospitality would be coming his way if they knew the truth of who and what he was? And didn’t he deserve every ounce of their hatred? Hadn't he easily accepted their slaughter as necessary only days ago? He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be out of this house, away from these people and their easy warmth. Hunter’s unvarnished hatred in a rough wilderness was easier to endure by far. 

“Neiman, let’s go see about the radio.” Hunter interjected, tone as casually commanding as he’d ever heard it. “Ghost, have something to eat, I’ll be back in a bit. If someone could find us both some passable clean clothes it would be much appreciated.” 

“Of course,” Neiman said. “I’ll have the guest room made up. Millie can bunk out with the other girls and Ghost can take her room.” 

“I couldn’t possibly put her out like that,” Ghost objected without thought and Hunter shot him the sincerest smile he’d ever seen from the man. 

“We’re fine sharing the guest room,” he said breezily. “He’s been enduring a bond to my dragon since our difficulties began five days ago.” The ripple of shock across the room was palpable and Ghost flinched, at a complete loss as to the significance of what had been communicated in that statement and hating Hunter for being such a complete ass about the whole thing. Had he intentionally aimed to further humiliated him? Was this another dose of shame to be endured, overtly clear to all present what had happened between them to forge such a thing? 

“Bless you both and Goddess protect you,” Neiman replied solemnly. “No small gift in this young man as well then I assume? Here we felt dangling ripe for the plucking and now two powerful mages stand before me! I’m humbled by our luck.” 

Hunter gave him a fond look, squeezing Neiman’s shoulder. “Your loyalty to the Kingfishers does not go unnoticed, friend. But Ghost will need our protection for the time being. He is a necromancer, but the greater part of his gift was woken by the bond and his magics remain unstable.”

“What?!” Ghost rounded on Hunter, trying to ignore the violent trembling his body was doing from head to toe. “What in the bloody fuck is a necromancer  _ you arrogant turd _ and when exactly were you planning on mentioning this little revelation to  _ me _ ?”    

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a day early because I have family in town tomorrow! I would LOVE love love to hear your thoughts on this one. I also have a new short story called Taliesin I’m also dying for some feedback on https://archiveofourown.org/works/15558360/chapters/36118752
> 
> Blueghostghost.tumblr.com


	8. Fox Hill

Hunter crossed the room and sank into the easy chair by the window with a sigh, immediately going to his boots, pulling one off and then the other, letting each of them hit the floor with a heavy thud. “Lance says I’m to stay here and protect the farm until further reinforcements arrive to adequately replace me. Might be a couple of weeks though, he’s got a lot of irons in the fire, sounds like.” 

 

He sighed deeply, glancing in Ghost’s direction. The man was positively glowering from where he sat on the bed, a heavy book spread across his lap. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a simple blue t-shirt that matched his eyes to startling effect. “Oh good.” he said, taking in his wet hair. “You took advantage of the shower. I plan to do the same shortly.” 

 

“Not until we have a very long conversation you’re not.” 

 

“Oh?” Hunter gave him a bemused look. “Can’t this wait until later  _ honey _ , I have the worst sort of headache and it’s been a really long day.” 

 

Ghost ripped the book from its resting place, throwing it hard enough it slammed into the opposite wall with a dramatic wack. He swung his legs out onto the floor and stalked across the room with measured intent, stopping to loom over Hunter with all the gloomy unhappiness he could muster. “I  _ hate  _ you.” 

 

“Am I supposed to be suddenly impressed by this non-epiphany? I believe this is our default position, no?”

 

Ghost’s voice was a harsh hiss, like he was grinding out every word with effort. “You didn’t tell them who I  _ am _ . They don’t even fucking know what they feed and bed here and you’re lying to your own people.” 

 

Hunter shrugged, unwilling to show his own self doubt about their truly awful situation. “I think we covered the important parts pretty efficiently. Including that you think I’m an  _ arrogant turd _ .” Ghost grimaced at that, flashing his teeth, but Hunter continued. “You’ve set yourself neatly outside their deference for the Kingfishers even if you didn’t announce yourself as a sworn enemy. Beyond that, telling these poor farmers I’m keeping company with a priest of The Penitent will only make them more afraid.”

 

“Get fucked by dogs! You told everyone I was bonded to your magic! You just couldn’t resist continuing to humiliate me could you? And what the hell is a necromancer?” Ghost was practically breathless now, hands clenched into fists. 

 

“Relax, princess. To say we are bonded,  _ in front of everyone, _ as you so helpfully pointed out, is closer to dropping to one knee and offering you a very pretty ring. It makes it very clear that you’re under my protection here and no one will trouble you.” 

 

Ghost looked incredulous, his cheeks still flushed as he sputtered above him. “Why in the name of the gods would you do something like that?”

 

“It simplifies things for one.”

 

“For  _ you _ maybe. Who the fuck am I even supposed to be?” 

 

Hunter gave a shrug. “Whatever you want to be, I suppose, as long as that it isn’t too much of an idiot.” 

 

Ghost ran his palms over his face and groaned, abruptly retreating to sit on the edge of the bed. “Hunter, I was raised in an isolated community with a very specific view of the world. I don’t know how to fake belonging here!” 

 

“Give yourself some credit. You faked not being a witch for years. I think you know plenty about being duplicitous about who you really are.”

 

Ghost looked as if he’d been slapped and Hunter felt an unfamiliar twinge of regret at his words. “You’re such an ass. Why did you say that I’m a necromancer?” 

 

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut with a pained expression. “I really do have a headache. No fooling.” 

 

“Tough shit.”

 

“I should have had you stabled out in the barn with the horses. You know I actually came up here thinking I’d finally get some quiet?”

 

“Hunter!”

 

“Fine. A necromancer is a witch who’s magic moves between the veil of the living and the dead. The ravens were a huge tip-off, the coming back from near death kinda sealed it for me.”

 

“Oh. That...” Ghost chewed his bottom lip, his eyes conveying that that sounded about right to him as well. “Can a lot of people do that?”

 

“No, thank the Goddess. You’re my first and I could happily go the rest of my days never meeting another.”    

 

“I don’t want this.” Ghost said suddenly sounding about as young as he actually was, all his earlier spitting rage draining out of him. “I don’t want any of this.”

 

“Yes I’m well aware. But you still have a responsibility now to learn to control your magics. You’re not some simpering little green-thumbed garden gnome whispering to your herb patch under the full moon. Your gift is dangerous. I felt it even when it was your buried secret and now that it’s come to the surface...”   

 

“And what of your responsibilities?” Ghost snapped, cutting him off. Hunter gave him a questioning look. “You should have known better, to blithely bind a stranger against his will, with no true understanding of what you were creating. And now here sits a death witch, a necromancer or whatever, who is  _ no friend _ and still occasionally contemplates slitting your throat,  _ because you really are that annoying. _ Here I am, in your land, with your enemy still at your heels and your people like so many defenseless lambs. Where, pray tell, is your responsibility in all of that?”  

 

Hunter felt a hot clinching in his stomach, this strange and tenuous territory between them doing strange things to his nerves. “Are you asking if I feel responsible for you?” 

 

Ghost blinked, lifting his chin a little. “And if I was?” 

 

“I promised you once that if you allowed me to use your magic to strengthen my own, that I would let you live. You have been nothing but a gigantic pain in my ass, the whole way, but I consider your end of the bargain to be met.” Ghost said nothing to that and after a moment Hunter continued. “I think there is a difference between being responsible for someone and to them. With you, I’m not sure where that stands. You have a knack for making me unsure about things.” 

 

“Don’t expect gratitude,” Ghost said, gesturing to the room around them. “For this, for letting me live when a wiser man might not risk it. You’ve taken much more from me than you’ve ever given and you don’t have my gratitude.” 

 

Hunter laughed then, shaking his head. “Do you know you’re probably the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met? I can’t think of a single person with the kind of fight in their soul I’ve seen out of you. No, I’ve learned to expect many surprising things, little ghost, but I promise never that.”

 

*********

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Millie was in the kitchen when Ghost came down. He’d slept late and deeply and Hunter’s side of the bed had been empty and cold when he woke. 

 

“Yes. Thank you. Black is fine.” 

 

She nodded, going to the coffee pot. “I just made this so it’s fresh. I have a slice of blackberry pie that might pair nicely if you’d like or I can fry up a couple of eggs. I came in here to start on lunch, but it won’t be on the table for another hour.”

 

“You don’t have to wait on me.” 

 

“No trouble.” She smiled in a way that made her cheeks dimple when she handed him the mug of coffee. “You look like you could use a little codling. Sit down, please.” 

 

Ghost snorted, sliding into a chair. “Is that a polite way of suggesting I look a bit pathetic?”

 

Millie put a slice of pie and a fork in front of him. “I would never say that.”  

 

“Of course not.” The pie was good. The feeling of sitting unharassed at the kitchen table after a sudden influx of pleasant meals was strange. “Do you know where Hunter went off to?”

 

“Out riding with Pa. I expect they’re checking for any signs of trouble.” 

 

“Mmm.” Ghost decided to withhold his commentary on that subject, choosing instead to make short work of his pie. 

 

“It is reassuring to know we have a dragon at Fox Hill. I can’t imagine what you two went through.” 

 

Ghost flinched, taking a drink of coffee to hide his expression. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

 

“Oh I’m sorry! I’m not fishing for details, I swear.” 

 

“It’s alright,” Ghost said, making himself stand and bring his plate to the sink. “You said you’re making lunch? Please, what can I do to help? I’d rather be busy than stuck in my own head, thinking too much.”

 

By the time Hunter returned, coming through the door with his usual imposing energy and Neiman at his heels, Ghost was putting out fresh rolls, roasted carrots and fat slices of ham. 

 

“Well don’t you look domestic.” He was freshly shaven, the waves of his dark brown hair tamed beyond anything Ghost had seen since they met. Handsome, he supposed, but quickly dropped that train of thought.

 

“Can it Kingfisher,” Ghost replied conversationally. “This is not my first go at community living and I’m perfectly happy to pull my own weight.” 

 

Hunter looked amused and Ghost felt an ease in the tension that had been creeping into his muscles, preparing for another possible fight. Last night Hunter had certainly pointed out his lack of respect towards him, but hadn’t specifically said anything about changing that. The idea of kowtowing to the man like everyone else did turned his stomach, but he was also bone tired and desperately wanted days that ended in far fewer bruises. 

 

“Hey Neiman, how about a pitcher of that wonderful beer you folks brew up here?” Neiman nodded, sending one of the young men wandering about to go fetch it. Hunter’s eyes landed back on Ghost. “Do you drink? They tend to favor hoppy beers in this region.” 

 

“Uh, sure,” Ghost said awkwardly. 

 

“Have you had beer?”

 

He made an incredulous noise that seemed to please Hunter who was now smirking. “ _ Yes _ I’ve had beer.”

 

“How would I know?” Hunter shrugged, grabbing him by the elbow and leading him to sit beside him at the table. “You seem...sheltered.” 

 

He glanced around, making sure no one was following their conversation too carefully, then lowered his voice anyway. “During the festivals, the midwinter bonfires and the summer solstice there is always a bit too much drinking.” 

 

Now Hunter was leaning his head in towards his, whispering conspiratorially. “Hmph. Wouldn’t someone of your standing be expected to behave?” 

 

Ghost jerked his head back, putting a more comfortable distance between them. “Yes, but there is always some allowances for youth. How was your ride?”

 

“Quiet. We should enjoy it while we can. In fact, if you’re amenable I saw a meadow a ways out I thought we might hike to tomorrow afternoon.” 

 

“Oh?” A glass of dark, golden colored beer was placed in front of him and he sipped at it cautiously. It tasted bitter and fruity on his tongue, different from the lighter fair he was used to, but not in a bad way. He eyed Hunter suspiciously. 

 

“Yes. A big wide field without a soul around for miles and miles. I won’t pretend to have any skill for teaching, but I thought we could try to get you a little more comfortable with your gift.” 

 

It took considerable control to finish his last gulp of beer instead of sputtering it out all over the table. “Are you shitting me?” 

 

Hunter smiled around his glass, seemingly unconcerned by the stares they were getting from the other folks around the table, now gathered in mass for their mid day meal. “I am not shitting you.”

 

“That...seems dangerous.” 

 

“From my perspective, no more dangerous than leaving things to chance. We’ll walk, so there won’t even be horses to worry about. I meant what I said about you having a responsibility in this.” 

 

Ghost licked his lips, face going hot. “Could this maybe be a private conversation?” 

 

“Sure, but we’re having this conversation.” At that he turned to Neiman and began to ask him about crop yields, leaving Ghost to glare at his carrots instead. 

 

“A couple of us are going fishing at the pound later today, if you want to come, Ghost.” He looked up in surprise as Millie dimpled at him.

 

“Um,” his eyes darted over to Hunter, but his head was turned away from them and he seemed focused on something the man sitting next to Neiman was saying about soil acidity. “Yeah thanks. That sounds fun.” 

 

Fishing ended up being after dinner, taking advantage of the last few hours of daylight and a little extra privacy for a handful of young farm hands to exchange gossip. Millie brought a thermos of tea and a basket of apple turnovers that were eagerly distributed as folks set up poles and bait. 

 

They chatted idly, teasing Jerry good naturedly about his budding romance with a girl from a neighboring farm, complaining about certain persons lax hygiene in the bunks, their plans for the short holiday after the spring harvest. 

 

Ghost listened passively, letting their conversations wash over him as he kicked his legs out in front of him and watched the line of his borrowed fishing pole bob in the water. 

 

“And what about you, Ghost? How long have you worked for Mr. Kingfisher?”

 

“Hmm?” He asked, coming back from his own thoughts. “I don’t...uh. I don’t work for him. We met during the attack.” 

 

Jerry opened his mouth as if to ask a follow up question, but Millie swatted his arm. “Geeze, what?” he demanded, rubbing the spot where her hand made impact.

 

“ _ I know you _ Jerry Applebalm. Don’t you dare go asking stupid questions about that alful business. I didn’t invite him here just to scratch your curiosity.” 

 

Ghost stepped carefully between lieing and too much truth. “Looks like harvest is coming up. I’ve done my share of working a shortgrass harvest growing up. If you could use another hand, I’m happy to pitch in.” 

 

Millie beamed, easily shifting the conversation. “A lot of seasonal workers haven’t been able to make the trek. I’m sure Pa will be pleased as punch to take you up on that.” 

 

******

 

It was well past dark when Ghost slipped into their shared bedroom, his hair wet from another shower. In jeans and a sweatshirt, he looked like any one of the kids that work around the farm—although that wasn’t altogether true. He had a certain prettiness to him, a pale luminescent quality that made eyes linger on him whenever he entered a room. If Ghost had noticed, though, he hadn’t let it show.

 

“I went fishing,” Ghost said immediately, as if as a preemptive to Hunter’s questioning.

 

“I know,” he said mildly, from the easy chair where he had been reading over the farm’s recent financials. Not his department, usually, but it didn’t hurt to know it and know it well. “Neiman mentioned it, but maybe tell me yourself next time.” 

 

“Okay. Sorry, you seemed busy today and I didn’t want to bug you about it.” Ghost sounded slightly more sincere than he usually did when agreeing to whatever Hunter told him to do. 

 

“Did you catch anything?”

 

“Hell no. I’ve yet to see proof there are actually fish in that pond.” Catching Hunter’s look of piqued curiosity he shook his head, amused. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but they just go there to talk. Harmless gossip, just like back at the ranch” 

 

“Certainly worse ways to spend an evening, I’m sure.” 

 

He shrugged.“When do you think the harvest will start?”

 

“I was told, most likely end of next week if the weather stays mild.”

 

“They’re short handed—but you probably know that already. I said I’d pitch in where I could.”

 

“Mmm. You ever done it before?”

 

“Sure. There isn’t a kid where I’m from that doesn’t get pressed into service for at least a week in the spring and another in the fall if it’s been a good year. I kinda liked it. My regular studies were a whole lot of being trapped inside.” 

 

“Alright. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to have the help, although you certainly don’t have to, and I still want to make time to work with your gift.” 

 

“Why?” he challenged, meeting Hunter’s gaze with an edge of defiance. 

 

“The same reason I don’t let my dragon burn down everything within sight when I’m angry. You’re young, but you’re not stupid, Ghost. And I know why I’m not the ideal candidate to be doing this—for a lot of fucking fucked up reasons—but we do have the bond and the space and a dragon strong enough to put a lid on your magics if things go sideways. I don’t know if it’s fear or disgust, or maybe it’s just your white hot hatred of me that’s holding you back, but I think you should get over it enough to learn a little control.” 

 

Ghost glowered, pointing an accusatory finger. “First of all, how  _ dare _ you? I hope to the gods this is the last time you ever tell me to get over anything. You have no right. You have no fucking clue what this has been like for me. And second why should I trust you? Why would you do anything that didn’t just help keep me under your thumb?” 

 

“Because I’m being practical.” Hunter snapped back. “I can’t fight with my dragon magic and keep your wandering powers under control at the same time and if you get injured again, what’s to stop your body from automatically draining Millie as easily as the Lupine brothers to heal?” 

 

Ghost looked like he wanted to cry, eyes darting away from Hunter. “Stop it! I don’t want to hurt anyone else…I won’t.” 

 

“Then make that true, Ghost.  _ Don’t just say it. _ Let me help you. We call it a gift for a reason, brought to us by the Mother Goddess. Whoever taught you that a part of you was a curse, something to fear and hate, was  _ wrong _ . Stop living in denial about something that is your birthright.”

 

He threw up his hands in frustration. “Fine. Okay. Just fine. I’ll do it. But for the record I think you’re being an idiot about this.”

 

“Noted.”

 

*******

 

“Even in our messages on the CB radio, in code no less, Lance is managing to make a chew toy out of my ass.” 

 

“Oh? He must at least be very happy you’re alive,” Ghosts words were punctuated by his heavy breathing as he worked his way up the steep incline of the mountain trail. As they left the treeline the hills became smattered with the buzz of bees and the sprawl of wildflowers, the landscape at the very zenith of spring. Someone had loaned him some hiking boots and paired with thick socks it was a vast improvement from what he’d arrived with.     

 

“Mmm. Lance is not one for excessive sentiment,” Hunter said. “Although his loyalty to his family is without question. I’m sure there has been no living with him since all this began.” He stopped to survey their surroundings. “Just up over that ridge and I think we’ll be there. “You have siblings don’t you? Sisters?” 

 

“Yes, and brothers too. I’m the youngest of six, actually. Bossy and opinionated all of them.”

 

“Heavens no? How ever could you come out of that?” 

 

“Do shut up. Then of course you also have the aunts and uncles and the cousins that come from those. You said I was tough, but where I come from holding your own and telling interfering jackasses to get fucked is just a means of survival.” Ghost paused. “If you’ve been speaking with your brother, have you heard any word on further attacks?”

 

“Some,” Hunter told him without elaborating. “We’re to stay put for now, but once the harvest is over that may change.”

 

“You mean the dragon is here to protect profits, not people.” 

 

Hunter gave him a sharp look. “I did not say that and we have farms all over this region full of nice people worth considering. You’re in a piss poor position to judge us. Weren’t you recently lecturing me along those lines? How ˆ _ dare  _ I and so forth?” 

 

“Maybe.” Ghost sighed. “Who knows?” He said, looking away, back down from where they’d come. “Maybe someday between the two of us we might be able to conjure up half a conscience.” 

 

“Hmm. Sometimes you very much make me feel the twelve years between us. I can’t remember the last time I had a thought like that, let alone said it outloud. Let’s stop here.” Hunter dropped the pack he’d had slung over one shoulder and sat down in a patch of grass. Ghost stood there watching him, expression tight. “Come on. Sit over here with me for a bit.” Hunter had the sensation of making an unwanted and filthy proposition, and in some ways he absolutely was, offering up something to Ghost he never wanted, had fought against for most of his life. 

 

Finally he nodded and went, reluctantly sliding to the ground beside him. “I was ordered to return home after the massacre at the warehouses.” He looked determined as he spoke. “I was supposed to bare witness and return to report to the elders. I just wanted you to know. I mean, I don’t expect you to believe me, but if I knew the farm was in danger, I would tell you.” 

 

“You would betray your own people?” Hunter challenged. 

 

“I would choose life over needless death...necromancer or not.” 

 

“I believe you. Now are you ready for me to start?”

 

Ghost let his tongue run over his bottom lip, in what Hunter was beginning to recognize as a nervous gesture. “Ok.”

 

“Try to stay calm, take deep breaths.” Ghost’s experiences with magic, thus far, had been brutal and traumatic, forced under dire circumstances with no time to adjust. It was really little wonder that when his magics did come forward they emerged like a frightened and wild animal, lashing out at anything around it in fear and desperation. 

 

Hunter had thought his gifts would be small, easily broken and contained and that had been a terrible miscalculation, a callousness for which he would surely continue to pay for a long time to come. But he had once had to learn to coax and tame a dragon, learn to harness it by the sheer force of his will, so he at least had that experience to share. Now they would have to see if Ghost had the strength to do something with this feral dark stuff, but if will and spirit were what it took to master magic, he already knew the kid had that in spades.  

 

He reached forward, placing a hand on Ghost’s chest, reaching for his magic, his dragon sliding through him easily along the bond, feeling that sudden sweet glut of power, rich and guileless. 

 

Ghost’s eyelashes fluttered and he let out a hissing sound. “That damn lizard of your’s,” he said between clenched teeth. “He’s never subtitle is he?”  

 

“Nah, not really his thing. You doing ok?” He gave his shoulder a squeeze, felt the tenseness there. “This isn’t like before. You can tell me to stop.”

 

Ghost blinked at him, pupils already blown wide, face flushing down to his neck. “It’s just really distracting  _ the way he does that _ . Give me a minute.”  

 

“Take as much time as you need. You can also just push him away. Gently though. In the clearing after you got stabbed, you shoved him so hard he manifested in full form and that takes a lot of juice.” He felt the light nudge of Ghost’s efforts and smiled. “That’s it, but you could probably whack him a little harder than that. He won’t take it personal.” 

 

“It’s okay. I’m fine like this. It doesn’t feel bad, just weird.” 

 

“Ok. Good. Here let me see your hand.” Ghost watched as he cupped his fingers in his own, feeling out their connection and feeding the energy into the spell, making little blue flames dance at the tips of Ghost’s fingers. The boy started, eyes going wide, but he didn’t jerk his hand away. “Do you feel that?” Hunter asked. “The way the magic flows nice and easy, a sweet little trickle?”

 

Ghost wiggled his fingers, watching transfixed as the flames danced. “So this is from your magics, correct?” 

 

“Yes, good that you can feel that, but it’s manifested through you by way of the bond. I thought we’d start with something a little more in my wheelhouse before tapping into your energies.” He let the magic fade and the flames went out. 

 

Ghost examined his hand with interest. “How old were you when you started?”

 

“Probably four or five with little things, but later for the dragon, eleven or so?”

 

“Was it hard?” 

 

“At first, yeah, but I was also damn proud. I didn’t always use the Kingfisher name, actually, but it was pretty clear who my daddy was after that and he decided to claim me.” 

 

“Oh.” Ghost considered. “That kinda makes them sound like assholes.” 

 

Hunter snorted, smiling at him. “You’re not wrong, although I’ve managed to miraculously find a comfortable enough place with them.” 

 

“ _ Heavens no? How ever could you come out of that?”  _

 

“Ha! Aren’t you clever? Now let’s see if we can get you to do that little parlor trick on your own.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where things start to really get complicated, which I love writing, I really do. Please share your thoughts! How is this dynamic working for you? Also I'm quickly approaching my fall schedule (or is it approaching me? Like a freight train?) So I'm gong to have to make some realistic decisions about my writing goals. (Maybe) I think this story is going to be around 50k and I've got 10-15k more to do so it's realistic that I'm just going to finish it. Which would be just plan bonkers but there you go. I've also committed to finishing this other novel starting at the end of this month which may or may not make me lose my mind so that's also a factor. Blueghostghost.tumblr.com


	9. smoke

Ghost punched at his pillow, rolling over again in his reluctantly shared bed. He could hear Hunter in sleep, the rhythmic breaths in the darkness, but more than that he could feel the hard pull of their bond, the woven tendrils of their two magics as they wrapped around each other, one blue, one black. Dragon flame hot and cold onyx. 

 

Even in these early lessons he was starting to feel and see so much about the world that he had never recognized before, like living your entire life underground and then suddenly walking out into fresh, bright sunshine. Parts of that were painful. It scared him plenty, still brought out sudden jolts of dread or shame, but it also called to him, caressed something so deep in his bones and he wondered if he’d ever be able to walk away from it again. If he’d ever want to. He should hate himself for it, but couldn’t find the energy to do so.

 

He brought the tiny blue fire to his fingertips, clenching and unclenching his palm, watching as the room fractured with the faint ethereal blue light. A moment later and a hand closed over his, snuffing out the flames and making him jump.

 

“I told you no magic in the house,” Hunter spoke in a near growl, voice rough with sleep. 

 

Ghost rolled his eyes. “You called this one of your parlor tricks. It’s not like I was throwing divination bones across the bedspread.” They’d only tried that once since Ghost’s initial mistake. The resulting patch of barron earth and the joint batch of nauseating headaches had put further exploration of that power source on indefinite hold. Certainly the last week had not been boring.

 

“I recall you agreeing with my rule.” 

 

“Probably.” 

 

“And if you are desirous of further instruction, I’d recommend an apology and something halfway convincing about never doing it again.” 

 

Hunter was still holding his hand and Ghost tugged it away. “Mmhm. Won’t do it again.” 

 

“What are you twelve? I have too much shit to worry about, Ghost. For fuck sake don’t make me worry about you more than I absolutely have to.” There was some heat to that statement and Ghost felt that twisting flip flop in his belly, the unspoken understanding that if something went terribly wrong, Lance would be taking his pound of flesh from his brother. 

 

“Fine. You’re right. Didn’t mean to wake you. Couldn’t sleep.” He scrubbed hands over his face. 

 

“Too much magic?” 

 

Ghost nodded. “It feels like I’ve got fireworks going off behind my eyelids and electric currents running off in interesting directions from my brain and then back again.” 

 

Hunter made a sympathetic noise, sitting up. “I’ll make you a cup of shortgrass tea. It will help.”

 

“You don’t need to do that.”

 

Hunter gave Ghost’s shoulder a light squeeze before sliding from the bed. “It’s ok, I’m up anyway. I know this has been difficult for you and no one could fault you the efforts.” 

 

Ghost gave a wistful smile, trying to ignore how the compliment made him feel. “I suppose I am obsessive student by nature. I was ready to take my vows to the order quite early, was already instructing those several years my senior.” He sighed deeply. “For all that I am supposedly quick to learn, why do I feel like such a fool? All that time studying and still completely blind to essential things.”

 

Hunter shrugged. “Maybe you’re a bit naive and a little indulgent in some maudlin notions. But your age accounts for both.”

 

Ghost rolled his eyes, mood shifting from sadness to exasperation. “Oh get fucked. At least I’m not a bossy know it all.” 

 

Hunter grinned, showing just a little too much teeth. “I forgot to mention you’re also a brat. Wait here. I’ll be back with the tea.”

 

****

“Supplies arrived this morning. I put some new clothes for you on the bed,” Hunter said to the bent form diligently working a row of shortgrass.

 

Ghost looked up, pulling off the wide brimmed hat and wiping sweat and grime from his forehead. The light dusting of freckles across his nose had darkened from days in the sun. “Oh. Thanks.”

 

“Also a book came from the Kingfisher collections that I remember having a chapter on necromancy.” 

 

“Seriously?” The flash of surprised delight that moved across his face pleased Hunter more than he thought it should. “There are books on magic? I mean, I suppose that’s kind of a dumb question isn’t it? Does your family have a lot of them?” 

 

“The most valuable library on the west coast.” 

 

“By the gods, that sounds…” Ghost trailed off, eyes studying the row he’d carefully been trimming. He cleared his throat, cheeks flushed. “I look forward to reading the book. Thank you.”

 

“Come on back to the house now and I’ll show it to you. It’s more of a historical recounting than anything instructional, if I’m remembering correctly, but I’m sure it will be interesting and it might provide a few ideas.” 

 

“Oh, uh,” he glanced around at the fellow harvesters, still intent on their task. “I should probably do a few more rows.” 

 

“You’ve done plenty by the look of your basket. No one will mind if I say I have need of you.” 

 

Ghost looked like he was trying to decide if he was annoyed or amused. “Come help me lay all this down on the drying rack first then.”

 

Hunter smirked. “Alright. But you’ll be making people uncomfortable.”

 

“What?” He asked, hoisting his basket up. “You’re plenty happy to profit from it, but too good to get your hands dirty?” 

 

“No,” he took the basket from Ghost’s arms, carrying its bulk with ease toward the rack rooms. “I’m usually a little too busy doing my part in the process to go around mucking up somebody else’s. I’d slow them down and they’d be too polite to say.”

 

“Oh don’t worry Kingfisher,” Ghost said, trotting to catch up. “I’ll tell you if you’re doing it wrong.” 

 

“Oh I’m counting on it. You seem to be fitting in well with the others. Neiman says you’re making friends amongst the seasonal hands.”

 

Ghost gave a shrug, his expression going thoughtful. “It still feels a little jarring when someone uses their magics—of course it’s nothing like what you can do, or you know…” he trailed off leaving off the implied  _ me _ . “But other than, you know, going against all that I was raised to believe was holy and true and living amongst the irredeemably damned, it’s not all that different from the ranch I grew up on. Plus they’re easy folks to like.”

 

“Mmm speaking of damnation, if they can spare you tomorrow I’d like to hike out for a practice.”

 

“Well I wouldn’t say no to it, but you should get the okay from Neiman first.” 

 

“It’s not as if he’s paying you.” 

 

“True.” Ghost said. “But do it anyway. They’re your people and you have their loyalty and reverence. I have to find my own justification for accepting their hospitality when I’m the last person to deserve it.” 

 

Hunter frowned at that. “Not so. You’re my guest. They host you because I ask and using my resources can’t possibly weigh on you. You owe them nothing.” 

 

He shook his head. “I owe  _ you _ nothing and there’s a difference.” 

 

“Hmm.”  He cut his opinion on that little distinction short as they entered the vaulted interior of the facility where they dried the harvest on large flat mesh racks, each placed on top of the other like alien high rises on a city grid. The pungent scent of the herb was thick enough to cling to clothes, hair and skin. With Ghost working the fields it had fully invaded their room, a constant incense that mixed with the scent of sweat  and soil, an earthiness that grounded the snap of magic that was always there now that they were working the bond from both ends.

 

Hunter’d guessed right and the other workers in the room eyed them with nervous curiosity as he helped Ghost lay out the freshly cut shortgrass leaves, his hands growing sticky with the bleeding sap. Ghost moved with easy repetition born of practice, placing the curling green leaves in a tidy pattern that used the square footage of the rack efficiently. 

 

“I like the way the racks fit onto hinges so you can stack them,” Ghost said as they worked. “Probably really easy to unload as well. Haven’t seen it done like that before. Is that how all your farms do?” 

 

“Yes. Lance’s head of mechanical operations designed them a few years ago. She’s very good at that sort of thing. I’d like to see everything shipped to one location for this, but it’s so wet here, we alway lose crop to mold if we don’t dry first.” 

 

“That makes sense.” He gave their rack a satisfied look, hands resting on his hips. “I think we’re done. I just need to wash up and then let’s take a look at that book.” 

 

******

Ghost gave a satisfied “Hah!” as he felt his magic take hold, the wings of the little fuzzy bumble bee resting on his palm whirring to life as it lifted into the air, it’s once crumpled, lifeless body now in motion. He watched it’s progression for a moment, as it bobbed and swayed towards a patch of wildflowers, feeling the smile that that tugged at the corners of his mouth until his face ached. “Did you see that?” he asked breathlessly, turning his attention to Hunter. “Did you feel it when I did that?” 

 

“Very impressive.” Hunter had gotten out their growler of beer and had begun spreading out on a red checkered blanket the picnic lunch that Millie had packed for them. “And of course I felt that. I hope you don’t plan on reanimating every dead thing you find. Maybe that’s all well and good when you’re twenty, but this old man doesn’t have the stamina for it.”  

 

“Well too bad,” he flopped down on the blanket, taking a swallow from the beer Hunter had poured for himself. “That was fucking amazing and I want to do it again.” 

 

Hunter glared. “Hello Ghost. Would you like me to pour you a glass of beer?”

 

Ghost beamed. “Yes please.” He popped a slice of cheese into his mouth, looking like the cat that ate the canary. He chewed thoughtfully. “Do you think you’d be able to do that too? Through the bond?” 

 

“Hmm. Good question. I don’t think I’m particularly interested in finding out though. Dragons are one thing, but this stuff is out of my depths and frankly I find it a little creepy.” 

 

“Aww, you’re no fun.” He took the fresh glass of beer Hunter had poured for him. “You must have books on bonding magics?” 

 

“I do. But a lot of my knowledge comes from teachers and actual practice. My family spared no expense to ensure I was given proper training. I’ve done a little more bonding work than most, just because the dragon is so energy hungry. My father remained bonded with his wife for the same purpose.”

 

“Mmm. Lance’s mother?”

 

“Yeah. A formidable woman. I did my best not to remind her of my existence more often than absolutely necessary. She moved to Vancouver after my father died and Lance took over the business. The distance has suited us both fine.” 

 

“Oh. What are her magics?”

 

“A weather mage. Let’s just say my father’s indiscretions may have caused a bit more lightning than Portland would have had otherwise.” 

 

“Weather! That’s fascinating. And does that mean Lance has both magics?” 

 

“No, he carries the dragon, like our father, as do his daughter and son.” Hunter said it gravely, expression clouded, but he didn’t elaborate. 

 

Ghost leaned back on his elbows, studying the clouds drifting above them. His still felt the jittery buzz of magical exertion, but it was almost pleasant, a mild hum that ran through him, bleeding the tension from his body. “So if your dragon is so much stronger when bonded, why didn’t you have one already?” Ghost’s eyes flicked to Hunter’s, a small frown on his face. “Or do you? And they just aren’t here?”

 

“No,” Hunter looked mildly amused. “Don’t worry,  _ sweetheart _ , there’s just you. I like my privacy and most find the connection...to be a bit overbearing.” 

 

“Hmm. No comment on that one.” He sat up, stretching his arms over his head with a dramatic groan, his body stiff from working the harvest. “Okay, I’ve rested enough. You give me an exercise to do this time. And make it something challenging.” 

 

*****

When Hunter approached the farmhouse he heard the notes of music, soft and slow in the air, a relaxed and wandering melody as the player searched out the tune. His dragon stirred, coiling lightly up him, the briefest touch of scales and slide of heat, warmth pooling in his lower abdomen, as his magic was called up as if by a caress. Fuck if that wasn’t distracting.  

 

He took in Ghost up on the porch, a guitar on his lap. He laughed softly at something Millie said, her fingers shucking peas with the same grace he strummed the strings. Beside them Jerry was peeling a truly impressive mound of potatoes, interjecting into their conversation with animated gestures. Then Jerry was taking the joint from the corner of his mouth, passing it on to Ghost. He accepted it casually, putting it to his own lips and inhaling, nodding along with whatever was being said as smoke curled out from between his lips. It was the day after harvests end, easy and slow, and no one would begrudge them a little fun during their chores. 

 

Hunter paused, taking in the pleasant scene a few more seconds before necessity would force him to disrupt them, the relaxed, happy expression on Ghost’s face and the effortless way he interacted with people his own age, none of the abject misery and suffering of their first brutal days together. He found that he liked Ghost happy, thought more and more he’d be willing to do a great deal to keep him that way, an unsettling realization that terrified him to his core. As if sensing his troubled thoughts Ghost’s gaze shifted and then his eyes lifted upwards, meeting Hunter’s, his expression going more serious. He said something to the others, setting the guitar down and descending the steps of the poarch to meet him.  

 

“Hey,” Ghost said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’ve been gone all morning. Is everything okay?”      

 

“No,” Hunter’s tone was flat, his expression tight. “There’s smoke on the horizon to the east, a lot of it. I can’t get the growers over at brown river on the radio. They should have at least ten of our men with them so I don’t know what to think.” 

 

Ghost glanced back towards the porch where Millie and Jerry were watching them. “Okay. What should we do now?” 

 

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “First of all, get these people the fuck out of here. Back down, the same way we came up. I’ve already got two charter busses on the way that can meet them on the main road. I’ll keep a few guys back to start crating the product and loading it into the truck.” 

 

“What?! Are you shitting me?” 

 

“I can’t just leave an entire spring harvest. Not after all the other losses we’ve taken and possibly more to come. And I’d rather burn it than leave it for those crazed pig fuckers.” 

 

Ghost swore, face scrunching into a brief look of despair. “Okay. Okay.” He ran a hand over his face, seeming to come to a decision. “I’ll go get started in the drying room then.” 

 

Hunter had him by the arm as he half turned in that direction, pulling him back roughly. “Like hell. Go upstairs and get that book from my library and anything else you want to take. I’m sending you with the farmers to get on one of those buses.” 

 

Ghost gaped at him in disbelief. “What? No fucking way! If you use your dragon, you’ll need me.” 

 

“You’re a liability.” His tone was savage, demanding no argument. “Let me know that you’re away from here and safe so that I can focus and do my damn job.” 

 

“I’m not just leaving you. That’s insane.”

 

Hunter snarled. “Are you really prepared to face your people if they come? To feel them die and do nothing to stop me if it’s down to that? You’ve made progress with your gift, but this is no time to put that to the test, nor is it a time to sort out exactly where your loyalties lie. You’re the only other significant mage we have. Do what you can to ensure that the others make it to safety.”  

 

“Damn it.” Ghost looked pained, but he nodded in agreement. “Okay, but you get going too. Get your damn shortgrass loaded up and get out.” 

 

“I plan to.” Despite his best effort, his hand reached out of its own volition, cupping Ghost’s cheek, thumb brushing across the freckles there. “But listen to me, this is important. If I don’t catch up to you today, go to Portland and wait for me there, okay? Find Lance and tell him you’re under Kingfisher protection.”

 

Ghost blinked in surprise. “What?” 

 

“Hell, tell him everything. He’s a reasonable man and if anything happens to me he’ll see to it that our family does right by you. Show him that I gave you this.” Hunter took off the gold ring from his right hand and pressed it into Ghost’s palm. It was engraved with a sharp beaked bird intertwined with the image of a dragon, between them a saphire of intense blue. 

 

“I don’t understand…”  

 

“I have to go. I know more needs to be said between us, but it will have to wait. Tell anyone you see to be ready to leave within the hour. Get yourself out of here, Ghost, and don’t look back. Goddess willing, I will see you again soon.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm switching to my fall schedule, so updates on this guy might slow down. I have a proposed outline for my updates on my blog blueghostghost.tumblr.com but it isn't firm yet.


	10. mage lights

The rain began to fall as they started their march away from Foxhill Farm. Ghost did his best to ignore it, his borrowed rain gear keeping the worst of it off as he led his horse down the muddy mountain road. Many were traveling by foot by necessity and he hung back at the rear of the group to make sure none of them encountered trouble, watching as the miserable and frightened farmers slipped and slid in the mud, the muck quickly caking their shoes and finding its way in patches onto their clothing. 

 

His heart was thudding in his throat, his stomach twisted in knots. His eye darted to the ring he’d slid onto his middle finger of his right hand, the metal cold and thick against his skin. Hunter had lost his goddamn mind, and curse that man to the seven hells anyway. Just because he’d taken on The Penitent and slipped loose of their hands once was no guarantee he’d do it again. That arrogant, bossy know it all witch. And how dare he suggest his concern for Ghost would be a distraction? As if he’s  _ ever _ shown him one bit of true courtesy, done anything but use him for his own ends. Yet now that taking advantage of what Ghost could give would actually make all the difference, he’d sent him away! Hunter Kingfisher was the stupidest man he’s ever met, Ghost silently seethed, and whatever happened to him up there would be exactly what he deserved. 

 

Millie came up beside him, keeping pace with her own mount as she shouted over the sound of rain and the rustling of the wind in the trees. “I’m worried we’ll be traveling past dark at this pace.” She’d pulled the hood of her yellow slicker up and he had to lean forward to see her face. 

 

He grit his teeth, and nodded, but tried to keep the worst of the tension from his voice when he spoke. “I’m afraid so. Probably another six hours, maybe more by the look of things. I can cast a few mage lights after sunset though.” A simple spell and one he’d practiced frequently enough to feel confident doing it safely.

 

“Oh Ghost, that would be wonderful. It would certainly give folks heart.”

 

“It will be an hard slog, but we’ll make it through, I promise. Try not to worry overmuch. Won’t do any good anyway.” 

 

She nodded solemnly. “I know, I’ll try. You just tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.” 

 

He let himself glance over his shoulder, feeling another wash of the anxiety he just couldn’t seem to suppress. “How long will it take them to load the harvest do you think?”

 

Millie looked equally miserable. “Most of the night, I’d suspect. It’s just Mr. Kingfisher, Jerry and Bill left and it’s big job.”

 

“Best to try not to worry about that either, then,” he said and she nodded in agreement, although by the look on her face, her heart wasn’t in it.  _ Damn That man anyway _ . 

 

Ghost tried to unjumble the mess his mind had fallen into since he had last spoken with Hunter. There was anger at being sent away, certainly, and the always looming dread of further violence. But also this place and these people had coaxed from him his most secret and unseen self, openly embracing his magics and exploring their possibilities for the first time in his life. The Penitent, when they came, would no longer see in him their beloved priest, a child of their righteous gods. He would be called monster, witch and worse. 

 

It was a forgone conclusion that he would be reviled for what he’d done, but facing it still made his heart ache, made his stomach churn as he tried to swallow the dark shame that ran down to the bone. Had Hunter known as much and tried stupidly to spare him? No surely not. When it came to Ghost, Hunter wasn’t in the business of softening blows. More than likely he feared Ghost’s love for The Penitent, for surely he  _ did _ still love them, even as he turned his back on them and his life’s work, even as he knew they would see him burn if they could. 

 

Hunter was a vexation of a whole other caliber: his tormentor turned reluctant tutor. He’d been on the receiving end of both his arrogance and cruelty and yet they’d found a tentative truce these last few weeks. Then Hunter had given him his damn ring and spoken vaguely of protection and reuniting in Portland. For what? If he had further intentions for Ghost, why hadn’t he just said so before? They shared a fucking room, the man didn’t lack opportunity to speak his mind. 

 

The hours bled together, chilled by the rain, the air vibrating with the tension of those that fled. They dared not rest, pushing as hard as the slowest among them could manage. When darkness fell, Ghost pulled up the mage lights, their glow tinged with a shade of blue that inexplicably made his chest tight, caused him to say another round of curses for the idiot dragon that would rather he leave than stay behind. 

 

When Ghost heard raised voices at the front of the line, he urged Millie to stay back, pushing his own horse forward along the edge of the path to meet it. Neiman was at the front of their makeshift entourage, speaking with two men on horses, his face drawn into a look of deep concern. “What’s going on?” He asked when he reached them. “Who are you?” They were rough looking, their gear closer to that of a military than a farmer or outdoors man. 

 

“They come from Brown River,” Neiman explained, glancing at Ghost. “Security detail. I’ve seen one of these lads before. I can vouch they aren’t...” He trailed off. 

 

“I know,” Ghost said letting go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His mage lights flickered and he had to double his concentration to keep them up. “The Penitent paint their bodies when they go into battle and their clothing is homespun. We saw the smoke this morning and thought it would be best to move these folks somewhere safer. Weren’t there originally ten of you?” 

 

One of the men scowled at Ghost. “Eight now. The other six stayed with what’s left of Brown River Farm. There was a band of them, at great cost we managed to send those blood thirsty bastards on the retreat, but they were headed this direction. We came to warn you.” 

 

Ghost could feel his skin prickle, sweat gathering on the back of his neck and in his armpits despite the chill. “How many? Did you see who leads them? I need to know what you saw.” 

 

“Look boy, I’m not here to take directions from farmers.” 

 

He could feel something in him click into place, the hard center of condescension that had helped him navigate the complicated politics of the priests’ order. He paused before speaking, letting his words drop like stones into a pool of water. “Good thing I’m not a farmer then, although I find your attitude in that respect to be misguided.” His tone was as dry as he could make it. 

 

“Just who the fuck are you then? You’re wasting our time.” The words were delivered coolly, but Ghost could sense their hesitation, the beginnings of nervousness in how they held themselves. 

 

Ghost held his hand up, feeding a little more energy to make the lights flare up around them, his ring gleaming in the eerie light. “I’m the battery pack for your dragon. If he faces enemy forces, I can do a hell of a lot more for him than you ever could. Now tell me everything. Kingfisher will want a full report with I return to him.” 

 

*******

Hunter felt the deep ache in his back as he loaded yet another crate into the belly of the cargo truck. In the end the push to move the harvest was a physical endeavor, and one that promised to take him to his limits. The rain was coming down in earnest now, making the soil soft and wouldn’t that just be his luck to get the damn truck stuck in the mud on his way back down the mountain. 

 

To his great frustration, his mind kept wandering, to Ghost, the most infuriating, stubborn creature he’d ever met. Ghost, who he’d sent with the others and would hopefully find his way to safety soon. Would he wait for Hunter? Go to Portland perhaps?

 

They hadn’t said much about what would happen when Hunter was called back from Fox Hill. He’d wanted to give Ghost space to come around to his magics, to make up his mind about what he might want next in his own time. That decision now seemed the height of stupidity, leaving them separated with nothing said between them about what the future would hold.  Maybe the most disconcerting thing was that Hunter could not place when exactly he’d decided he wanted to bring Ghost with him, to protect him and find him the education in magic he’d lacked with his own people. 

 

And what exactly made him so sure Ghost would want anything to do with him given half an opportunity to be elsewhere? He had violated the boy brutally, severed him from his chosen path in life with little consideration, left him desperate and afraid in a world he didn’t understand. And it was beyond reprehensible to take any credit if Ghost recovered remarkably well, had taken to his new lessons with admirable skill, and made friends among a people he had once been taught to hate. Ghost’s resilience was his own and hardly made Hunter’s mistakes any less terrible. Lance was going to  have his balls when he heard the whole of it. 

 

It was near dawn when they’d gotten the truck loaded and moving, creeping along the wet ground slowly, the engine rumbling in the early morning quiet. They moved towards the tree line, Jerry driving and Hunter in the passenger seat, the headlights throwing long angular shadows in front of them. The Bill had taken the remaining horses down with the intention of doubling back if there was anything amiss on the road below. 

 

Suddenly, Jerry slammed on the breaks, throwing Hunter against the dashboard. The truck lurched to a stop a few feet from their descent onto the muddy forest road, the one that would slowly and bumpyly take them down, down to the main stretch of actual paved asphalt that Ghost and he had been standing on a few weeks prior. But now the way was blocked by a rusted out pickup truck. Hunter frowned, turning to Jerry to see if he recognized the vehicle, only for the world to fracture into chaos, throwing blood, bone and glass into the air with a bright, deafening bang. 

 

Magical energy hit him like a punch in the gut as he absorbed the sudden death through his bond. Hunter’ ears were ringing as he fumbled with his door handle, stomach churning, his body vibrating with the shock. More shots rang out, breaking what was left of the drivers side window and creating a spiderweb of cracks across the windshield.  _ Oh shit. _

 

Operating more out of instinct than logic, Hunter rolled down into the footwell of the truck, dragging Jerry’s limp body on top of him, hands suddenly slick with too much blood. The unseen attackers continued their assault, filling the cabin with the sounds of shrapnel bouncing off metal, strobe-like flashes of light reflecting off every surface. The air smelled like blood and the hot burn of gunpowder. Jerry wasn’t moving, his elbow pressing awkwardly into Hunter’s chest, a bruising pressure. He grit his teeth, forcing open the door, tumbling out into the ditch with a painful thud, Jerry fell half out after him, arm dangling like a broken doll. He sat up, looking with silent horror at the dead face in front of him, eyes glossed over and dull, the back of Jerry’s skull missing. He’d been a nice kid and Hunter had just gotten him killed. 

 

He swore under his breath shaky hand reaching into his coat to pull out the pistol he’d taken from Neiman’s safe.  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ . He’d gambled their safety against getting the crop moved and he’d lost. He crouched down, using the truck for cover, torn between bothering with a gun and burning through his magics too quickly. The gunfire had stopped, a heavy silence hanging in the air. “Stay back,” Hunter warned into the darkness. “I’m armed motherfuckers.” 

 

“There’s also only one of you,” came the reply. “We’ve killed a lot of witches today. I think we’ll manage one more just fine.” 

 

Hunter pulled up his dragon, feeling it burn through him, well fed and agitated. He threw the blue fire of his mage light into the air, bathing their standoff in an eerie glow. “I think you will find this witch is not so easily dismissed.”

 

There was the sound of hoofbeats, coming up from the road, someone riding hard in the darkness. The Penitents shouted as a rider burst from the trees, the horse side stepping the pickup, snorting and shaking its head. The rider urged it forward again, barrelling towards Hunter. They fired on him and Ghost--because fuck all things holy that was definatly Ghost--ducked down, pulling the animal around the hood of the truck, sliding to the ground with practiced grace before he’d even come to a full stop. Hunter lunged forward, avoiding the hooves of his mount, grabbing Ghost by the front of his rain jacket and yanking him out of the line of fire. He went easily, not resisting when Hunter slammed him up against the trailer of the truck and glared. “What the ever loving fuck are you doing here?” 

 

“Making...” his chest was heaving and he paused to catch his breath. “Making sure you don’t die, you hopeless dimwit. I’ve never met anyone as stupid as you in my whole goddamn life. I swear that your dragon’s cooked your brains.” 

 

Hunter shoved a hand over his mouth. “Shut up. This is not the time to discuss this. You’re supposed to be on a bus right now.” 

 

He grabbed his wrist and pulled his mouth free, expression grave. “Are you hurt?”

 

Hunter felt a lurch in his stomach. “It’s not my blood.”

 

Ghost nodded. “I counted six of them.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I think. I’m not totally sure.”

 

“I haven’t had a chance to look. They attacked the driver’s side of the cab.” 

 

“They’ve come from Brown River. We ran into scouts. There were casualties, but the farm is still standing. Hunter…” Ghost closed his eyes for a moment. “Please no killing unless you have to.” 

 

“I have to.” His tone was flat. 

 

_ Please _ , he mouthed it again, but didn’t offer any further argument. “Greetings brothers,” he pitched his voice to carry, eyes still locked with Hunter’s gaze. “Was that Root I saw out there?”

 

“Your people and their names…” Hunter hissed and Ghost swatted at his arm, giving him a peevish look.

 

“Who is that?” A voice called back, uncertain. 

 

“Ghost.”

 

“Ghost? I heard that Ghost is dead.” 

 

“You shouldn’t be here, Root.” He tried to move past Hunter, but found himself manhandled back against the flat wall of the trailer. 

 

“Let me try to talk to them,” he hissed. 

 

Hunter shook his head, the numbness from the attack giving way to an increasing appreciation bordering on dred. “Don’t.”

 

“If you’re Ghost, why is a holy priest skulking in the dark with a magic cursed witch? Come out where we can see you.” 

 

“Alright. One moment.”

 

“No.” Hunter said under his breath, putting more of his body weight into holding Ghost in place. “Stay here, lend me your strength and let me finish this.” 

 

Ghost let out an angry huffing sounds. “Let me go.”

 

“This is exactly the situation I was trying to avoid.” 

 

“Congratulations, you’re a regular Cassandra. Whatever you’re going to do, let me look them in the eye first. What do you care if something happens?” 

 

“Hey idiot, didn’t you just come flying in here telling me not to die? I care.”

 

“They’re my people. This is mine to face. Move. Now.” Hunter let up this time, giving an exasperated shrug as Ghost pushed past him. He only made it a few steps before he was taking a shuttering gasp, eyes wide, hand over his mouth in abject horror. 

 

“ _ Oh shit. _ Don’t look.” He sprinted after him and  had his arms around Ghost a moment later, turning his head away from Jerry’s body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t look.” 

 

Ghost was crying, silent sobs wracking his body. “ _ No no no _ . Why?” He sounded lost, wandering in a moral wilderness both foreign and bleak. 

 

“Ghost? You still there?” Root was calling for him and Hunter felt him flinch, watched as he scrubbed tears and snot from his face, hands shaking. 

 

“I’m here.” He pulled away from Hunter, looking miserable as he picked his way back around the truck, his pale hair glowing in the mage lights. “Brothers,” he greeted flatly. “Have caution. Hunter Kingfisher is a witch of considerably more ability than you’ve likely encountered.”

 

“It is you. Though you look more like them than a man of the order. What happened to your hair?” There were murmurs of surprise. “And pray tell,  _ brother _ , how does a favored servant of the gods end up on a first name basis with a Kingfisher?” 

 

“By no means I’d wish on anybody. I beg of you, go home. No good can be gained by this bloody slaughter of poor farmers. It is an evil that our gods will judge us harshly for.” 

 

“You defend them? What blasphemy is this? And that man you whisper with in the shadows is no farmer.” 

 

“No he’s not.” Ghost agreed. “He will kill you.”

 

“And yet you live.” 

 

“I do. But I am not that foolish child that Sky bedded and sent to witness this atrocity.” There was a sound of shocked objection among the men at Ghost’s words. He ignored them and kept speaking. “I think sometimes he did it to humble me, to impress the extent of his power. Who truly knows his mind? But I have learned different lessons in these mountains. The Penitent don’t belong here. Go home.”

 

“You speak filthy lies.They have done something to you with their witch curse.”

 

Ghost’s voice turned angry. “Oh Root, you stupid man.  _ You have no idea _ .” 

 

Root aimed his gun at Ghost and the mood in the air shifted. “Get out of the way, priest, and once we kill the witch we will discuss taking you with us. You may yet be cleansed. Unless you would prefer to join him? I was told Ghost was dead and I do not flinch from making that a truth.”

 

“Please, he will kill you. I would see no more bloodshed. I would see you go home to our lands and your families. I could give you a message for Sky...” 

 

“Enough of this horseshit.” Hunter begun to raise his dragon magic again and Ghost let out a hissing noise, tears falling freely down his cheeks. He sank to his knees in the mud and Hunter felt his dragon run through him, glutted on power as Ghost offered no resistance, bringing up his own magics and feeding it to Hunter just as they’d practiced. 

 

“Brace yourself,” he called to Ghost: his enemy, his bonded, his pupil and victim, a powerful contradiction in the shape of a pretty, pale boy. “There is going to be one hell of a kickback. I’ll take as much of it as I can.” 

 

“I know.” Ghost said. “I’m ready.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments. It's super motivating. More drama to come! Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog. come say hi! I'm also doing weekly fic updates and posting a few things earlier when I can.


	11. Cold prayers

Ghost kept his eyes closed as the dragon attacked, but he could still feel their deaths, the chilling rush that ran straight through him, tugging at the dark immenseness that hovered at the edges of his periphery. His consciousness wavered, caught between the flash of teeth, the burn of the dragon fire and the feathery black shudder of his own gift: cold earth, rosewater and pungent herbs, the whisper of prayers in a thousand tongues. His mouth opened in a silent scream, all the air leaving his lungs. Death and death again. He floated, weary and heartbroken, wanting with all his being for what was happening to not be true. 

When he came back into himself the first thing he noticed was that his knees were cold and wet, pants soaked through from kneeling in the mud for so long. His body ached, blown out with too much magic, jittery and tight and his teeth were chattering. “Ghost can you hear me? Hey.” Hunter was beside him, warm arms around his shoulders, the smell and feel of him grounding and familiar. “It’s over.” 

He felt a sudden wave of furious sadness: at Hunter, at his own people, at himself. Ghost let out a guttural sob, slamming a first against Hunter’s chest as he wept, a grief that frightened him, threatened to consume him and drive him barreling towards madness. He had never wanted any of this, felt untethered from everything he had once held dear. 

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said softly, voice coaxing. “There was no way I could have let them go. They would have hurt someone else. They might have even killed you.”

Ghost continued to cry, pushing at him weakly. “Damn you, damn you, damn you.” 

“Shh.” Hunter held onto him, hands running down his back, fingers petting through his hair gently. “I’m sorry. I wanted to spare you from this. It’s why I sent you with the others. But you never listen.” 

After awhile Ghost grew still. “You said your Goddess will not take the souls of those she has not welcomed here.” his voice was wretched and hoarse. “That they must haunt these mountains?”

“I did.”

Ghost turned, looking up at Hunter with eyes determined and teeth clenched. He couldn’t stop shaking. “Then you will pray to your lady and beseech her to have mercy on these men, to see to it they find proper rest. She will hear one of her faithful children. She will consider your request.” 

He sighed, brushing tears from Ghosts face. Hunter was still crusted with dirt and Jerry’s dried blood. “Her gift is strong in you. The path you walk now is the one she has given. You have every right to ask her yourself.” 

He let out a near hysterical laugh. “I don’t think I can talk to your Goddess right now with any sort of propriety. Their souls were once mine to shepherd. I have failed them and I did nothing to stop you from killing them. Will you not do this for me? Please?” 

Hunter studied Ghost’s face for a moment. “Alright.” He sounded tired. “Before we leave here I will have a word with our lady of the mountains. For you. I would personally just assume leave those dog fuckers to their fate.”

“But you will ask her for mercy?”

“Yes. I will ask. Now come on. I need to radio for help. Don’t look behind you.” He pulled Ghost to his feet and he went easily, letting Hunter take him by the arm and navigate him towards the farm house. The sun had begun to rise up over the mountain, turning the sky pink, the birds singing in the early spring morning. 

“Wait,” Ghost said shaking his head, “fuck, wait. Help me catch and stable my horse first.” 

*****  
Ghost ran the shower hot, letting the heat take away the worst of the pain in his muscles, scrubbing his skin and hair with soap until the scent of blood and smoke was gone. He changed into dry clothes and by the time he was back downstairs, Hunter had cleaned himself up too and put on a pot of coffee. How strange to know that there was a truly grisly scene a few minutes stroll from them, that just at the edge of the woods was a massacre and here they were in this cheerful kitchen, the early morning sunlight filtering in.

“Help will be here in a couple of hours. How are you holding up?”

Ghost poured himself a cup of coffee and gave a little shrug. “Tired now that my adrenaline's down and my body is registering it’s been up all night.” He thought about it a little more, staring into hs mug. “I’m fucked up about Jerry, horrified about the rest. Maybe less horrified than I think I should be? Did the farm hands make it out okay?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be a shit show getting this place operational again, but that’s a problem for another day.” He gave Ghost a considering look. “I should be angry with you.” 

“Mmm.” He sat down at the table. “Is there any pie left?”

“I think so. Looks like blackberry. You want a slice?” 

“Please. I’m still a little nauseous, but I should probably eat something if I’m going to drink as much of this coffee as I’d like to. And I’m not sorry I came back, if that’s what you mean. If you want to fight about it, I will, but I’m not your fucking employee and I don’t take orders from you.” 

Hunter put down a slice of pie, sliding into the seat across from him with his own plate. “Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear, sweetheart.” 

“Oh can it, Hunter. I’m not in the mood for your shitty pet names. ” He ate a forkful of pie, trying to find the right words. “I’m devastated about what happened and yeah it hurt to be part of it, but it’s not like it shouldn’t hurt. Jerry was my friend. Those were my people. This whole thing is supremely fucked up.”

“I admit I had hoped you would have more time before having to reconcile yourself...you know.” He made a vague gesture, “with everything.”

Ghost felt a waving uncertainty and licked his bottom lip. “You asked me to wait for you in Portland.” 

“I did.” Hunter nodded. “I thought you could continue to study your magics at our family estate.” 

Ghost blinked, an entire new world of possibility suddenly opening before him. “Your brother will not object?”

“Lance will want to meet you, to judge for himself the powerful necromancer that has newly arrived in his territory. He will most likely appreciate not having to press the issue.”

“Hmm.” 

A shadow of disappointment fell across Hunter’s face. “But, of course, if you find that your heart lingers here I will try to help you return.”

“To Fox Hill?” Ghost asked in surprise. 

Hunter shrugged “Millie likes you.”

“Oh.”

“And Neiman wouldn’t mind having you as a son-in-law by the looks of things.” Ghost looked incredulous, cheeks faintly flushing. “Probably let you just hang around and give him a grandchild or two if that was more your inclination.”

“What? You’re kidding?”

He shook his head. “You have no small power, Ghost, and families out here are always happy to mix such advantages into their line.”

“How pragmatic.” Ghost gathered up their dishes and took them to the sink. He had his back to Hunter when he spoke again. “I took a vow of celibacy once,” he said it conversationally, but his shoulders were tense.

“In the Priesthood? But surely you don’t still…”

Ghost waved a dismissive hand. “I broke it a long time ago...for a man who probably wasn’t worth it.” He shook his head and sighed. “I think you’ve guessed more about that than I would have liked.”

“Perhaps” Hunter’s tone was gentle. “There was also what you said to those men this morning.”

He shook his head, pressing fingers to his eyelids. “I’ve been such a fool. Thinking with my ego and my dick or just plain not thinking at all. Guh.”

“Don’t judge yourself too harshly. You are not the first twenty year old to make a mistake or five. There is such a thing as course correction. Although I admit what you’ve been through qualifies more as a course annihilation.”

He snorted, pouring another cup of coffee. “That’s putting it mildly. Millie and I are just friends, by the way. In all this fear and uncertainty, I’ve been very grateful for her kindness.”

Hunter grimaced. “Goddess, I’m a son of a bitch and you’ve seen the worst of what I’m capable of in spades.” Not quite an apology but something that felt startlingly close. 

“You’ll get no argument from me on that front, but I’d rather not dwell on our own dark hearts at the moment. I’ve had enough of looking into the abyss for one day.” 

“Fair enough.”

Ghost gave Hunter a sly smile over the rim of his cup. “So do you get propositions to populate the countryside with little dragons then?”

Hunter chuckled. “Not the countryside, no. The Kingfishers are more particular about where they keep their offspring. Lance would have my balls if I started fathering random children in amongst his shortgrass farmers.” 

“Oh Hunter, surely not an arranged marriage?”

That got him another laugh. “No and don’t give Lance any ideas. I do as I’m told, but even I have my limits.”

Ghost sat back down at the table. His mind kept going back to that moment he had seen Jerry’s lifeless eyes, the blood pouring from his head. What if they had been reversed and Hunter had been the one driving? The thought made it hard to breathe. “I would like to go to Portland with you,” he said. 

“Alright. If some fresh new hell doesn’t manifest in the course of this day, we should be there by tonight.”

“Oh, I should give you your ring back.” He pulled it from his finger and slid it across the table, but Hunter waved him off. 

“Keep it for now. It marks you as under my family's protection and it puts my mind at ease for you to have it.”

“Will I need your protection where you’re taking me?” 

“Probably not,” he reached across the table, taking Ghost’s hand and sliding the ring back onto his middle finger, “but wear it anyway.”

****  
The Kingfisher estate was perched in the west hills with a panoramic view of the city of Portland. It was a grand French Renaissance-style château, an imposing fortress of greystone nestled in amongst several acres of hiking trails. On clear days one could stand in the front rose garden and see the snowy sharp peak of Mt Hood on the horizon and when the weather turned cool the opulent marble fireplaces that occupied both public and private spaces crackled with fire casting the place in orange light. 

Lance was not overly fond of visitors or social occasions, so most of the guest rooms remained unused, but even so, between the regular full time staff, scholars seeking use of their library, a rotation of business associates and the Kingfisher family members themselves, there was always an active smattering of people about. 

By the time they arrived it was dark and Ghost had fallen asleep in the back seat of the town car, his head slumped over to rest on Hunter’s shoulder. He looked exhausted, the skin under his eyes purplish and bruised, the accumulated pressure of the last 24 hours taking its toll. Hunter tried not to examine too closely the feelings that were zinging through him: relief at returning home against abysmal odds, apprehension at navigating his brother’s likely tempestuous mood, but also a sense of triumph at having managed to bring this foreign and irrepressible boy home with him, their bond still intact. And what the fuck was wrong with him that it felt like some sort of prize, a reward for his labors? He wasn’t exactly the hero in this story now was he? And Ghost wasn’t exactly his to claim either. 

He shook him gently, letting Ghost come to waking on his own time. “We’re here.” he said quietly as he blinked and stretched. “We’ll have to check in with Lance, but I called ahead and the staff has set up a room for you, so as soon as we’ve satisfied my brother, you’re welcome to go to bed. Are you hungry?” 

“A little.” 

“I’ll order us something from the kitchen.” 

Ghost stepped out of the car and gaped. “Uhh. So you live in a castle? What the hell?” 

He caught him by the elbow, moving them forward. “Yeah and I’m the dragon that protects it. Welcome to the heart of the Kingfisher empire. Ghost?”

“Hmm?” He met Hunter’s gaze.

“Have caution when speaking to my brother. He does not like it when he suspects someone is telling him what they think he wants to hear. Honestly will go a lot further than manners.”

“Okay.” 

Once they’d made it past the drama of the grand staircase that arched over the entry way, it was easy enough to make their way to the second floor and find Lance in his private study. He was sitting in an easy chair, wearing a deep burgundy smoking jacket, a glass of brandy in his hand, his wheelchair propped beside him as always, like a faithful hound sitting at its master’s feet. Where Hunter complexion was dark, his body broad, his older brother was pale and slim, his hair as strikingly red as their father’s had been, the refined picture of the true heir of the Kingfisher legacy. 

“Ah here you are,” Lance closed the book he had been reading with snap, eyes drawing slowly over his visitors. Ghost was still looking shell shocked by his surroundings, his body ridged as he lingered in the doorway. 

“This is Ghost,” Hunter said, pushing his companion towards one of the available seats and down into it when he continued to just stand there. “Ghost, this is Lance Kingfisher.” 

Lance gave Hunter a critical look. “My reports were that you’d bonded with some hapless untrained mage during the the warehouse attack, but that sounds like a Penataint name. Am I correct?” 

It was moments like these that reminded Hunter he’d spent too much time among unquestioning farmers. It was time to return to the mental exertion of dealing with his brother. He sat down as well, meeting Lance’s stern expression. “You’re not mistaken.” He sighed, shaking his head. “We’ve honestly got to put a cell tower up in those hills. I know the isolation has been to our advantage, but there are certain things one just can’t say over an open air radio.” 

“Well you’re here now, so why don’t you say it?” His tone was cool. “You know I dislike surprises”

“I know, but I have been dealing with quite a few things I dislike, so I suspect you’ll cope. Ghost is seeking asylum. His magics are significant and he would be killed for practicing them if he were to return to his people.” 

Lance’s eyes flicked to Ghost, studying him until he shifted uncomfortably. “And what have you to say about the matter? Bonded are you? How do you like being ridden by a Kingfisher dragon? I hear it can be quite...compelling.” 

“Oh for fuck sake,” Hunter snapped. “We’ve been up to our ears in near death experiences. Can we cool it on the bullshit for tonight?”

Ghost’s face was blushing to the tips of his ears, but his voice was steady when he met Lance’s eyes. “Well considering your brother forcibly woke my magics and now I have to learn not to trigger some tragedy between the veils of life and death,” he shrugged, “I’m happy enough with the dragon part.” 

Lance continued to frown, giving a knowing look in his brother’s direction. “Oh Hunter, how positively boarish of you. A forced bonding, really?” 

Hunter made an agitated noise. “It was a miscalculation, I will admit, but it possibly saved my life. Shit got very real very quickly out there as I’m sure you already know.” 

“Miscalculation,” Ghost scoffed. “I prefer to call it sexual assault, but either way, I’m here now and that’s on the Kingfishers as far as I see it.”

Lances eyebrows rose. “And why shouldn’t I assume you are here to take your revenge then?” 

“Because I’m not.”

“I vouch for Ghost unequivocally.” Hunter said firmly. 

“Hmm. I can see that by the ring on his finger.” 

“So you know then that I trust his motivations for wanting to be here. I have had three weeks to make my own conclusions and anyways without his help you very much might be down a brother. That’s no small debt to be considered.” 

“Indeed.” Lance gave Ghost one more appraising look. “Thank you for the service you have provided for my family. I’m sure when I hear the all of it I will be doubly impressed...considering how intensely my brother defends you. Do you intend to continue your bonded magics?” 

Ghost looked to Hunter uncertainty. “I had hoped to, at least until I had a better handle on my abilities.”

“I have no objection,” Hunter replied. “It’s a good safety precaution for the time being.” 

Lance gave an affirming nod. “Alright then Ghost.” He paused. “My dear, what is your surname?” 

“Uh Searanch. We would say Ghost of Searanch but I think I’d prefer to forgo that bit.”

“Probably for the better. Ghost Searanch I give you leave as my brother’s bonded mage. You are a guest in our home and under our sponsorship. I’m sure Hunter can make available to you whatever resources you need to be comfortable here. Thank you again for your sacrifices and welcome to Portland.” 

Ghost blinked, blushing again. “Oh. Seriously? That’s it?” 

Lance nodded. “When Hunter tells me something is so, I believe him. Don’t be a disappointment. I do not take disappointment well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of you said you were curious about Lance. Was he what you expected? Blueghostghost.tumblr.comis my writer blog, come say hi!


	12. the house of the dragon

“Well that was a lot more unnerving than I’d expected. Thanks for the warning,” Ghost snapped, but when he looked over, Hunter seemed in no better spirits. 

“Honestly have you just not been paying attention to my stories about my brother?” Hunter was guiding them down a long hallway with ornate wallpaper and a lot of dark wood stained doors. Seriously, this place was more of a convention center than a house. “What about that was actually unexpected? I would take you to your room, but I don’t know if it has alcohol and I need a drink, so we’re stopping by mine.”

“Yeah,” Ghost sighed, following him. “Okay. Obviously that could have been a lot more shitty. I did not make the most gracious of entrances into your territory. I get that. He could have taken out your people’s murders on me and who would blame him?” He pressed fingers to his eyelids. “And not without reason, gods help me. I should probably just be happy it went as well as it did.” 

“No.” Hunter shook his head. “You’re right. He’s always seeking to unnerve. I should have warned you better. These last few days have put me off my game. I just knew if you sounded too coached, we’d really be in trouble.” He sighed. “I’ll have to tell him the all of it come morning. Lance is obsessive about details. Assume he knows everything about what has transpired between us from here on out.” 

Ghost could feel his face heat. “Oh wonderful.”

Hunter grimaced. “I apologize.”

Ghost waved him off. “Don’t, it’s fine.” 

“You once accused me of trying to further humiliate you. I just want to make clear that is not my intent.” 

“Well I’m not going to thank you for showing me some basic human decency, but I’m not pissed off either, okay?” 

Hunter seemed satisfied by his that. “Okay. Good. My room’s though here. I also have an office on the east end of the house, but I can show you that tomorrow.” Hunter’s bedroom was more of a suite, the front room consisting of a fireplace and dark leather furniture arranged around a low oak table. Ghost gave their surroundings a cursory glance before sinking down onto the sofa limply, apparently having none of the hesitancy in Hunter’s space that he had shown in Lance’s study. 

“As long as your house tour includes the library, I’ll be happy.”

“Happy he says? I didn’t think such a thing was possible. I’ll introduce you to Angela first thing after breakfast. What are you drinking?”

“White wine if you have it. Plenty of things make me happy, Hunter. Don’t get snarky just because you’re sometimes not one of them.”

Hunter was opening the bottle of white wine he’d pulled from his mini fridge. “Ha! I think you’re the one being snarky. Or is it just punchy? I’m feeling a bit punchy myself. I was going to order cold cuts and some cheese from the kitchen unless you want something specific?”

Ghost accepted the glass of wine, sitting up a bit from his slouch to sip it. “No that sounds fine. I assume you’re getting crackers or bread or something? Maybe some fruit as well?”

“Sure. Good idea. Look at us having a wine and cheese party.” 

“It is, I admit, a bit surreal.” Ghost watched with a bemused expression as Hunter picked up the phone and ordered food to be to be brought up to his room. “This is starting to explain a lot about your general attitude about the world. Room service as a matter of course, really?” 

“If you would like to trek down to the kitchen and forage for yourself, by all means be my guest.”

“No, thank you. If it wasn’t a five mile hike, I’d consider it.”

“So nobel, so humble. Pitching in with the farmhands and fetching his own snacks.” 

Ghost snickered. “Only perhaps in contrast to you. Even your brother comes across as having a cold kind of politeness next to your rough edges.” Ghost wrinkled his nose in a sudden grimace. “Except for that shit about being ridden by your dragon. That was just in poor taste, in my opinion.”

“Hmm.” Hunter frowned. “You’re not wrong. He was, of course, trying to get a reaction. That’s just Lance. You held your own, but I’ll talk to him. I know these are not ideal circumstances...”

Ghost shrugged. “I know an exceptional opportunity when I see one. I have every intention of at least trying to behave.”

“Not too much I hope. Please don’t worry overmuch, I promise I can handle any tensions with Lance. That was likely the worst of it.” 

“He’s unwell,” Ghost said quietly, eyes not meeting Hunter’s. “I could feel the life force bleeding from him.” 

Hunter froze, his expression going dark. “Yes. You were able to feel that?”

“It was hard to miss, at least for me.”

“Lance’s mind is like a steel trap, but his body is weak. He has always been sickly. It is not, for obviously reasons, something we discuss publicly.” He gave Ghost a rueful smile. “He might have rattled your cage, but you shook loose his darkest secret without even trying.” 

Ghost looked alarmed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Hunter gave a dismissive gesture, sinking into a chair across from him. “As long as we’re in private, I prefer you tell me when you notice shit like that.” He shook his head. “Damn it. You’re going to be really something when you master your gift.”

Ghost smiled with his glass against his lips. “And right now? I’m what?” 

Hunter shrugged. “A refugee? A survivor? Still a brat? I don’t know, ask me tomorrow when I can rub two brain cells together cohesively.” 

“Alright. I might.” 

“Well we’ve answered one question in all of this madness at least.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“I think I’m officially responsible for you now.” 

“Ha!” Ghost felt a vertigo at that, his stomach doing little flip flops as he took it in. “I suppose you are.” 

****  
“Ghost?” Hunter brushed hair from the young man’s forehead, fingers lingering momentarily against his temple. “You fell asleep on the couch while I was taking the dishes down.”

“Oh?” He blinked, sitting up and rubbing hands over his face, his hair was a pale mess of wispy tangles, endearing in its artlessness. “Sorry. I think everything has finally caught up with me...plus the wine I guess.”

“Come on, your room is just across the hall. I’ll walk you over there.”

“Yeah, I think you’d better.” Ghost stood stretching his limbs. His accommodations had a similar layout to Hunter’s and was furnished in rich blues and greens, the sofa and two chairs centered around yet another marble fireplace. The paintings on the wall were of Oregon mountainous landscapes, all trees and snow peaked summits. He felt decidedly mixed about that, the shadow of the lady lingering even here. 

“Do you need anything?” Hunter asked, hovering in the doorway. “There should be a toothbrush and fresh towels in the bathroom. We can go shopping for clothes and such tomorrow.” 

Ghost gave him a sleepy half smile. “No, I’m fine, thanks.” He gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Goodnight Hunter.” 

“Goodnight.” And if it was strange, at long last, to sleep alone after so many nights sharing blankets on the cold ground or a bed in an old farmhouse, he was far too tired to think about it much. For now anyway. 

****  
The next morning Ghost had showered and dressed in a fresh t-shirt and jeans when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Hey,” Hunter said. “Goddess, you’re still in those hand me down digs? We’ll have to go shopping today and find you some real clothes and in your size too. That stuff hangs on you like a scarecrow.”

“Uhh.” Ghost shrugged, looking down at the worn garments he’d pulled from the bag he’d packed before they left Fox Hill. “At least these are clean I guess?” 

“True, but our circumstances are not so dire that clean is the best we can do now. You live in the house of the dragon.” There was a teasing tone to his voice now. “We do have a reputation to uphold you know.” 

Ghost suddenly took in the tailored cut of Hunter’s slacks and the smooth fabric of his button up shirt, his face freshly shaven and his hair carefully brushed. He was practically unrecognizable from the wild-eyed soldier he’d met in the mountains, a time that felt like eons ago—though Ghost suspected he’d recognize Hunter anywhere these days. “I suppose not,” he said slowly, feeling his face heat. “Umm, I can’t say I know anything about fashion. We make most of our own clothes and I’ve only worn the robes for the past few years…” 

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t intend to return to those do you?”

“What? No!” Ghost sputtered. “I...I just certainly don’t need you to buy me anything unnecessary, or too fancy. I would prefer not to draw too much attention to myself.”

Hunter gave him a slow smile. “Oh I have an eye for practicality, don’t worry. A few very well made things in a classic cut and they’ll last you a decade. Leave all that to me. Now, I ordered coffee and some refreshments to be brought to my room. I thought we could have a quiet breakfast before venturing out into the rest of the estate?” 

“Yeah ok. Let me just put some shoes on.” Hunter watched him sit and lace the muddy hiking boots he’d been wearing on the farm, a look of criticality in his eyes. 

“So,” Hunter said, clearly choosing his words carefully, none of which concerned Ghost’s footwear. “We’ll have breakfast, then I’ll introduce you to Angela while I have my meeting with Lance.” 

“Oh yeah that.” Ghost trailed after him into his rooms, settling comfortably on the sofa. “How long do you think that will take?” 

“A few hours most likely.” Hunter sat across from him with a sigh, pouring them both coffee from the silver urn that had been arranged on the coffee table alongside a number of pastries. “I figure after that we can drive into town and treat ourselves to lunch at the Heathman Hotel. Are you up for a Russian Tea service?”

Ghost took the offered cup with one hand. He was making short work of a blackberry bearclaw with the other. “Sure I guess? Is that a thing?”

“Yes, it’s a very nice thing. But you’ll need a jacket first. And a different pair shoes.” 

“Oh geez,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, I’ll get some clothes if you insist.”

“And a real haircut. Millie cleaned up that chop job I gave you admirably, but we both could use a proper barber.”

Ghost sipped his coffee, looking bemused. “Certainly.” 

“Shush you.”

“Oh come on Hunter, my protests have been feeble at best. I’m humoring you and I want credit for my good natured attitude, thank you.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, I always had the impression you were rather vain about your appearance, all those pretty tattoos and the elaborate hair...” 

Ghost hummed thoughtly, hands cradling his mug. “Maybe I am. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot I don’t know about this version of myself, actually. I’ve been so busy trying to pick up the pieces, I haven’t really thought about stuff like that. It hasn’t seemed to matter.” 

“Yeah, I get that. It’s ok though. You have time to figure it out, and I’ll help you to be whatever you decide you want.” 

He snorted at that. “But first I need a haircut and a jacket for the Russian Tea Room?”

“Well it can’t hurt anything can it?” 

“It seems a bit silly. Besides Isn’t Lance just going to send you back out into the field sooner rather than later?”

Hunter grimaced. “Yes, it’s likely. It is a tenuous time for us and beating back the Penitent and getting our farms operational again is of the highest priority.” 

“So it sounds like I’ll be needing rain gear and some thermal underwear a hell of a lot more than pretty shirts and what not. I know summer is coming eventually, but your lady’s mountains are still fucking freezing at night.” 

“Oh no...you don’t need to come with me.” The look of surprise on Hunter’s face was amusing. “You should stay here where it’s safe.” Ghost just rolled his eyes at that.

“Hunter, I’m your bonded mage. If you’re going into battle of course I’m coming. I’m no soldier, but I can be one hell of a energy source for your dragon and besides this is my fight too...I came to bare witness and I’m not about to flinch away and hide now.”

“Please. I would spare you more suffering, seeing more of your people the way things are with them. You don’t owe anyone more of yourself than you’ve already given. Let me protect you.”

Ghost just shook his head. “I don’t think that’s your decision to make.” He gave him a tired smile. “I go where you go, so shut up about it already. Don't like it? Shouldn’t have bonded with a necromancer then.”

“Goddess save us, you are a handful. I guess I should get to teaching you then?”

“I suppose so. Let’s see this library of yours then.”


	13. family matters

It turned out that Angela, the formidable librarian of the Kingfisher estate, was as good at her job as she was intimidating. Her classification and organization of such a massive collection was astounding and it had taken little more than a brief introduction from Hunter and a casually placed statement about Ghost being a special guest of the family and suddenly there it was—an unexpected and overwhelming glut of written knowledge within his grasp, nothing restricted, not even the most rare and dangerous manuscripts: necromancy, magical bonding, the nature of dragons—you name it—and suddenly Ghost had a startling amount of information to process on the subject. He suspected such studies here could last a lifetime. 

“I mean go ahead and read whatever you want,” Hunter had said casually over one of their lunches out in the city, somewhere where the special was salmon with char roasted fennel and farro salad and the waiters wore bow ties. Hunter had ordered them a bottle of expensive local chardonnay and they were lingering over their third glass. “I mean telling you not to do a thing—as we’ve well established—works for shit, so I’m not going to waste my breath, but by the sacred lady in the mountains, please just use some common sense about what to actually take for a test drive, feel me?”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Ghost countered, giving Hunter a pointed look. He had been here a little over a week and still found it hard to believe that this was his new life. “I’m plenty aware of the dangers of my ignorance, thank you.” 

He put up a conciliatory hand. “Fair enough. Speaking of, I’d like to schedule some practice time with just the two of us. Tomorrow morning after breakfast?” 

“Yeah alright.” Ghost ran a hand across his head, the feeling of the neatly trimmed hair there still strange under his fingers. “Uh, so do you mind if I order dessert?” 

Hunter looked amused. “No, please do. You really have a sweet tooth don’t you?” 

Ghost made a slightly annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “No. I don’t.”

“You like pie, if i recall correctly.”

That got Hunter a reproving glance over the cream colored heavyweight paper of the dessert menu. “Well honestly who doesn’t?” 

“Let’s split something hmm?”

Ghost snorted. “Well that’s just absurd, Kingfisher. I’d maybe be willing to get two things and split them both, but that depends.” 

Hunter raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? Dependent on what exactly?”

“If those two things are the chocolate torte and the apple crisp.” 

“Well what else is on there on the menu?”

“Meh, that’s kinda irrelevant don’t you think?” Ghost was smiling now and Hunter couldn’t help but admit he was probably right. There was very little he wouldn’t do to make Ghost make an expression like that one. Damn. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Hunter admitted.

Ghost gave a thoughtful nod, but his gaze was distant. “I think I need to learn Greek,” he said suddenly.

Hunter blinked at the shift in conversation. “To order an apple crisp? I’ll give you this place is a little pretentious, but I think that’s taking it a bit far.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “To read some of the texts on necromancy, dumbass. In the library. Gosh you’re difficult.” 

“Oh, well give a guy a chance to catch up. Ancient or modern? As you most likely know Angela knows both.”

“True,” Ghost pursed his lips in a way that Hunter found distracting. “But I can’t exactly commandeer her for lengthy translations every time I get curious about some random thing or other and you know translating is more of an art than a science, I’d rather start with the original texts when trying to figure out if they’re of any use or what the true meaning might be.” He made a vague gesture as if this was already very obvious to everyone. 

Hunter laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Man, you don’t go for things by halves do you?”

“Not generally, no.” Maybe it was the wine talking, but Hunter would swear Ghost was pouting. 

“Hmm. Well, you could always start with classes at the local college, I guess.”

Ghost’s expression brightened. “Oh is that possible?” 

“Yeah of course it’s possible. Also if I remember correctly there was a necromancer from San Francisco, a very powerful one at that, that studied in our library a few years ago.” Hunter nodded, mind tracing an old memory. “I believe he made a few translations from the Greek texts.” 

“What?! You know other necromancers?”

“I know of one. We’ve never met.” Hunter snapped his fingers. “Name was Ioannis I think, dating a werewolf, that part was pretty memorable. I’ll reach out to him.” 

“Really? Will he want anything to do with me?” 

“Hard to say. Us magic users are an odd bunch, but certainly things are corgal enough between us and that he’ll take my call.”

“Okay, okay. It may all have to wait until your shortgrass business gets sorted, of course,” Ghost pondered for a moment. “But we have time. It’s not like I haven’t put this all stuff together immediately.” 

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed. “There’s time.” 

***

“Ah there you are.” Ghost looked up from his book  
at the sound of Lance’s voice, watching as he wheeled his chair towards him. “Ah good, I was hoping we could get an opportunity like this. I would like to take a moment to speak with you privately.” They were in the massive main room of the library where Ghost tended to spend most of his afternoon’s these days. His eyes flitted to Angela’s office, the door open, but the women herself was conspicuously missing. Opportunity indeed.

“Good afternoon,” Ghost said neutrally, standing to remove the chair across from him so that Lance could occupy the space in his wheelchair.

Lance gave a small nod of thanks. “Please do sit down. I’ll get directly to the point. Hunter and I have spoken in greater detail about your first encounter with him.” Ghost could hear the hot rush of blood thudding in his ears as he gathered his wits about him. Gods this was really and truly happening. May some unknown deity that had thus far remained silent, now swoop in to save his sanity. 

“Yes. He told me he would be speaking with you.” Ghost slid back into his chair, tried to swallow, but his mouth felt too dry. 

Lance frowned. “I’m sorry, it was not my intention to upset you, although I completely understand why it would.” 

“I’m fine.” The words sounded mechanical to his ears. 

“I wanted to personally apologize for the brutality that you experienced at the hands of my family.” Ghost could feel his eyebrows creeping upwards at that one. He schooled his face back into something less revealing of his inner turmoil. Lance continued: “Hunter’s loyalty can be extreme and it lacks subtitles. He is a soldier first, my soldier to be specific, but he isn’t a monster.” 

“I know what Hunter Kingfisher is,” Ghost cut in, tone cool. “You don’t need to make excuses for him.”

Lance gave him a look of bemused admiration. It was irritating. “Yes, well, I suppose, in your own way, you really do. At least you know the worst of him.”

Ghost shrugged, gaze moving around the room uncomfortably. “There was plenty of really bad up in those mountains. Was Hunter the worst of it for me? Probably. But maybe not? It’s hard to say.”

“Mmm.” Lance looked thoughtful. “Do you know why I allowed you to stay here? After all that your people have done to mine? After the slaughter of so many innocent lives you came to so passively watch die?”

Ghost’s eyes met his, shame churning in his stomach. “Why?”

“Because of the way my brother looks at you.” 

He made a choked noise that came out sounding a bit like “wazza?”

Lance sighed. “Of all the people I imagined my brother might bring home to me one day, I must say a bookish young priest of the Penitent was not one of them.”

“Oh no, no,” Ghost sputtered. “We’re not...it’s not..”

There was something regretful in Lance’s expression. “I’m very aware of what it’s not, Ghost. And you would be well within your rights to deny him even the friendship that seems to be tentatively forming between you. That there might have once been something more is yet another casualty of this war, I fear. It weighs on me, you know, the price of this empire, the price those all around me pay for it. In many ways you are yet another victim of Kingfisher ambition.” 

“Hey whoa there. Now hold on,” Ghost snapped. “Where do you get the gall? Maybe your brother appreciates this kind of speculation into his personal life, but I can assure you I don’t. Ambition or no ambition it’s none of your fucking business.” 

“He’s in love with you.”

“Yeah?” Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushing. “Did he tell you that himself, because if so he sure has a funny way of showing it.”

Lance cleared his throat. “No, but I know him, better than anyone.” 

“Well good for you.” His tone was downright nasty. 

“I honestly thought you already knew.” 

“No. I don’t already know because there is nothing to know, and just because you like to play armchair psychologist with your sibling doesn’t mean I’m interested. Look, is this, like, a threat or ultimatum or something?”

“No not at all.” Lance’s demeanor stayed pleasant despite Ghost’s words. “I hope we can help you find what you’re looking for and I hope you and I can be friends one day. You’re very young and from what I hear blessed with no small power. With our support you could go anywhere, be a great many things.”

Ghost snorted, but refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d had his fill of promises of greatness possibly for a lifetime. “But you’re going to send Hunter back out into the field soon right?” 

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. We must reestablish our warehouses and get the evacuated farms operational again. I will need him to lead these objectives.” 

“I’m getting better at feeding his dragon with magics, using my own gift with intention. We’ve been practicing. A lot. As long as I’m with Hunter I won’t let any harm come to him.” 

Lance shrugged, expression not revealing much of what he thought of that proclamation. “You don’t owe us that.”

“But I think you owe me the choice don’t you? I was denied a lot of autonomy when this begin. I didn’t ask to be dragged through hell, and I certainly didn’t ask for this power, but now that it’s mine I damn well don’t want anyone else deciding what I’m going to do with it.”

Lance cleared his throat. “Very well. I will let you work this out with your bonded then. Please let me know if I can provide any resources that would be of assistance.” 

“Is minding your own goddamn business a resource?”

The sharp barking laugh in response was startling. “That, I’m afraid, is not my MO, but it was worth a try wasn’t it? My dear, I admit I am surprised by your choice to stay on with us, but it nonetheless pleases me. Obviously the lady has plans that have yet to be revealed.”

“If you say so, Lance.” 

“You have a surprising lack of faith for a priest.” 

“Uh I guess you’ve kinda caught me at a difficult time. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, really. I apologize, I’m not trying to be rude. I know that it’s a privilege to be here.” 

“Peace.” Lance waved off his words. “Today it’s my turn to apologize. We will sort the rest as it develops. For now I will let you get back to your reading” And with that he was gone. 

***  
“Do you have papers?” Ghost threw himself into Hunter’s couch with a huff, looking a bit rough around the edges. 

“I assume you want the shortgrass that goes with it?” Hunter closed the file he’d been reading through at his desk and stood up.

“Your brother is a piece of work.” Ghost groaned, his arm slung across his eyes, lazy and presumptive, but Hunter found that he didn’t much mind. 

“Shit. What did he do? He can’t leave well enough alone. I’ll talk to him.”

“No, I handled it.” Ghost sat up, rubbing his temples. “I’m just thoroughly rattled over the experience. He agreed to me going into the field with you though. So at least there’s that. I’m not even going to attempt to repeat everything else he said.”

Hunter frowned. “I still think I should talk to him. Do you just want me to roll this for you?”

“Yes please.” He watch Hunter’s fingers for a moment, the practiced way they worked, nimble and quick. “Please promise me you won’t bring it up. I get the impression he was just sizing me up, you know, because…” He hesitated, his cheeks faintly flushing. “You know, we spend so much time together.” 

“He’s not used to sharing.” Hunter slid onto the couch next to him, handing him a lighter and the joint. “You okay?”

Ghost lit up, inhaling deeply. “Yeah. Do you have a lot of work tonight?” 

Hunter took the lit cigarette from his fingers, taking a slow drag before handing it back. “No,” he said on the exhale. “Not if you want to go out. I was meaning to come find you anyway. I have something for you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. It’s a surprise. Look my family is complicated. Like great big mess. I’ll do my best to try to keep you out of it. You don’t work for Lance and I’ll remind him of that if necessary.” 

“Mmm,” Ghost made a noncommittal noise. “Let me try first. To get along with Lance and Angela and everything. You let me at the farm and it was important that you did. I’m not helpless and I don’t just want to be a burden.”

“Ghost Searanch, you are a lot of confounding things, and you do drive me crazy, but you’re not that. Come one kiddo, get your coat and I’ll buy you a drink.” 

***

“Why are we here?” Ghost asked, eyeing the dim interior of the dive bar with suspicion, taking in the well worn wooden tables and vinyl covered booths. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, the italian leather one that Hunter had spent a small fortune on—the one that fit Ghost’s lean frame so impeccably and in a way that made him suspect he’d never regret the purchase. 

“I got your social security card and state ID back from my guy today.” It had been almost an afterthought—the Penitent were a private people and by nature they tended to avoid the kind of formalities that left a paper trail, but it felt easier to go ahead and make Ghost into a passable Oregon citizen. Just in case they needed it. It was a peace offering of sorts too, one less issue that would keep him entirely dependent on the Kingfishers against his will. 

He’d agreed to it, but without much enthusiasm, having little use for such things in the past. “Okay?” he said now, brow furrowing. 

“Is this your actual birthday?” He held out the plastic card, looking at it for a moment before handing it over. Michael always did a very good forgery and he liked to take a moment to admire a true artist’s work. 

“Oh,uh…” Ghost stammered and flushed hot. “Well fuck. It’s not a big deal,” he said quietly. 

“Okay sure, it’s not a big deal, but it does mean you’re twenty one today—happy birthday by the way—so I thought I’d take you to a real bar and buy you a drink. And not some fancy place that knows us and won’t ask questions about my dinner dates age.”

“Oh.” Ghost shifted looking awkward. “Uhh…”

“Of course, unless you don’t want to?” Hunter’s expression shifted. “We certainly don’t have to.” 

“No it’s not that, I just, um…” Ghost looked at the floor for a minute. “Can we sit down maybe?” 

“Yeah of course. Pick a booth.” They sat in the back, the low warm light barely illuminating the wood panelling and the faded photograph of Mount Hood that hung above them. “Have you been to a bar before?” Hunter asked. “I mean Portland is full of the kind of hipster rustic joints that will sell you pork belly sliders and kombucha cocktails, but I thought we should start off with the real deal.” He seemed nervous as he spoke, eyes studying Ghost.

“No I haven’t been to a bar before. Um, when you join the order you stop celebrating your birthday.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you’re reborn or whatever, so you like celebrate the day you take your vows, but it isn’t a real birthday.” Ghost shook his head. “Fuck, Hunter I just never thought I’d be turning twenty one in a bar in Portland. Sorry it’s a lot.” 

“What you look like is a man that needs a drink.” 

Ghost nodded in agreement, blowing out his breath and giving a faint smile. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ll have what you’re having.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh this took forever to finish, but I'm still working on this story. Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writing blog, come say hi!


	14. Home life

“Are you a visiting scholar?” Ghost looked up and blinked in surprise. The young woman before him couldn’t have been more than twelve, her long dark hair pinned up in a elaborate braids. She was wearing a black knit dress with a white collar and knee high socks, her somber, thoughtful expression making her the picture of a school girl protagonist in a storybook. She was also the spitting image of Hunter—same dark lidded eyes and regal nose. Was she a relation of his? She simply had to be, but hadn’t Hunter mentioned once that Lance was the one that looked like their father’s side of the family?

 

She cocked an eyebrow at his silence, tapping her maryjane on the floor impatiently. “Uh, yes of a sort.” Ghost put the bookmark back in his tome on life force energies and closed it. “I’m a friend of Hunter.”

 

She brightened at that. “Oh well now that’s something interesting. He doesn’t have very many of those.”

 

“Well, I suppose not,” Ghost said cautiously. “I’m Ghost.”

 

“Hello Ghost.” She gave him a mischievous smile and a curtsy. “Octavia Kingfisher. Heir apparent to the Kingfisher estate, if father has his way, which he usually does. Oh dear,” she clapped her hands together and giggled at the look on Ghost’s face. “I’m sorry, I do love knocking strangers over the head with that one. Father insists on a home education. It can be awfully dull around here.” She paused and frowned, her brow furrowing. “Oh but now I feel bad, you being one of my uncle’s only friends and all.”

 

“It’s alright,” Ghost said, only slightly dazed.”He told me Lance had children.”

 

She nodded sagely at that. “Well then you would have figured it out eventually any way. It’s not like there are very many kids around here. What subject are you studying?”

 

“Oh, um, quite a few, actually. I’m a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to my gifts.”

 

“Ooo,” Octavia said, clapping her hands together again. “That sounds positively delightful. When you’re a Kingfisher there’s no hiding anything nice for later, they just squeeze the stuff right out of you. It’s exhausting!”

 

“I can imagine. Although if your dragon magics are anything like Hunter’s, I’d predict you’ll be happy for the extra training.”

 

Her eyes went a little wide and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Oh Ghost! Don’t you know a thing or two, about a thing or two?” She said in an excited whisper. “Has he shown you then?”

 

“Uh…well yes. He’s shown me.” _And how, thought Ghost with a trace of bitterness._

 

She sighed. “I want to attempt my first full manifestation, but Hunter says I have to wait a few more years. He worries about me getting hurt. Personally I think…”

 

“Via!” A young boy of five or six with sandy blonde hair and the same dark eyes appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Daniels says you could have fetched your books four times over by now.”

 

Octavia gave him a withering look. “So?”

 

“He says come back this instant or he’ll double our homework. Come on Via, quit fooling. I don’t want more homework,” he whined.

 

“Well that’s a stupid thing to bother saying,” she replied tartly. “Nobody wants more homework.” She gave a world weary sigh and turned back to Ghost. “Our tutor,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. “Mr. Daniels even manages to make something as exciting as magic seem boring. Do you suppose that takes a certain degree of talent? Oh two more minutes won’t matter, come over here and meet Ghost.”

 

The boy approached them, looking at Ghost with open curiosity. “Hello,” he said, tugging absently at the collar of his dark green polo shirt. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Hello,” said Ghost, doing his best to smile reassuringly. “What’s your name?”

 

“Luther Kingfisher.”

 

“He’s a special friend of uncle Hunter,” Octavia provided helpfully.

 

Ghost cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat. “Well it’s very nice to meet you both.”

 

“Yes, I hope we get a chance to see eachother again.” Octavia glared down at her brother who was now tugging impatiently on her arm. “We have to go,” she said taking his hand. “But I’ll come look for you in the library soon. I do like having someone new to talk to.”

 

“Alright, until next time then.” Ghost watched them leave, their hands twined together, with a mix of amusement and appreciation warring in his mind.

***

“Where exactly is Corvallis?” Ghost asked. They were in Hunter’s rooms, sharing a light dinner, which Hunter had continued to work through in preparation for their upcoming trip. Ghost had the couch to himself, Hunter using one of the big leather chairs across from him. He had the feeling he’d been occupying this particular piece of furniture more than it had been used in years--not that Hunter had been complaining.  

 

“About two hours south of here. It’s a small college town, but it’s a good location for a distribution center and Lance wants me to look into purchasing some properties there.” He didn’t look up from his blackberry as he spoke expression distant. “There aren’t any farming operations in the surrounding area, so hopefully we won’t run into trouble.”

 

“Mmm.” Ghost nodded. “Property for new warehouses?”

 

“Yes.” And how strange it continued to be to find himself over and over again in close confidence on the inner workings of the Kingfisher family. No secrets between them, nothing that wasn’t his to know. It was strange, he hadn’t even addressed Sky this directly and he’d supposedly respected the man, wanted more than anything to please him...supposedly indeed.

 

“I met Lance’s children today,” his tone was deceptively casual as he moved his spoon around his soup bowl.

 

Hunter looked up from the screen now, a guilty wince crossing his face. “Oh shit. They were traveling with their mother and didn’t get home until yesterday. I’m sorry. I’ve had my head up my ass with everything going on, but I should have introduced you myself—intended to introduce you myself, actually.”

 

Ghost flushed as he waved off the apology, embarrassed by how much better it made him feel that Hunter actually did consider it an oversight, his words undoing the knot in his stomach he had refused to acknowledge was there. Hunter hardly owed him anything on this front, afterall. He had promised him magical training and safety, not a first name basis with his family. But where Ghost came from relational ties were sacred and as hard as he’d been trying all day, he couldn’t seem to help but feel like it was a slight. “It’s fine,” he lied. “I know how busy things have been.”

 

“Still…”

 

“Mmm.” He shouldn’t care. Why did he care so much about this? Did he even like Hunter? Lance had called them friends although they certainly had never discussed the topic themselves. Ghost certainly no longer dreaded the man’s company as he once had. Damn it. He decided to change the subject. “Octavia certainly knows her mind about a few things.”

 

Hunter chuckled. “That’s an understatement. Was Yvette with them?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Their mother.”

 

“Uh no. We just sort of ran into each other in the library.”

 

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Hey, I’ll text her and see about breakfast with the lot of them tomorrow. I mean, I’ve hardly said two words to Via and Luther since they’ve been home and I’m about to turn around and leave again.”

 

“I…”

 

He appeared to already be doing just that. Hunter spoke without looking up from his phone. “Aren’t you just a tiny bit curious about the woman that has been married to my brother for the last sixteen years?”

 

“I suppose I should be. You said that both the children carry the Kingfisher dragon magic?”

 

“They do.” Hunter met his eyes, something knowing in his expression. “It’s expected of the heirs to the Kingfisher estate after all.”

 

Ghost made a uncertain sound, felling a strange flip flop in his stomach as he pressed on, treading into territory that was honestly none of his fucking business. “From what I’ve experienced and seen with you, Lance must not manifest his dragon magics often, considering his weakened life force.”

 

“No. You’re correct. It would probably kill him.”

 

“Something Octavia said made me think you might be the one providing their training.”

 

Hunter shook his head with laugh. “I am, Goddess save us all. Octavia is, as you might imagine, a challenging student, but she shows a lot of promise and she does work hard, bless her.”

 

“And Lance’s condition,” he said slowly, “it also prevents him from fathering children doesn’t it?”

 

There were shadows behind Hunter’s eyes, but also something like relief. Ghost understood all too well the freedom in telling hard truths, in being stripped bare in front of another. Hunter gave him a sad smile. “I think you’ll like Yvette. We’ve grown close over the years and she is utterly devoted to Lance.”

 

“As are you,” Ghost pointed out.

 

“As am I,” Hunter agreed. “Oh good. Breakfast in the main dining room at Eight.” The silence that followed was strangely comfortable, empty of chiding reminders of the importance of keeping Kingfisher confidences. Ghost knew all that already anyway, and it didn’t need repeating. Instead, he finished his soup, eventually making more small talk about the town of Corvallis before wishing Hunter a good night and leaving to find a book to read and his bed.

 

****

“You didn’t tell me that you were bonded to his dragon!” Octavia all but howled. “And a necromancer? WHAT? Can you show me? Can you kill things? Bring them back to life?”

 

“Octavia, pass the fruit salad and don’t be rude,” Yvette chided her daughter, her french accent giving her words a bit more weight. She exchanged a knowing look with Lance, a mix of affection and exasperation passing between them.

 

“But mum,” she countered, eyes wide. “Did you hear what he just said?”

 

“Yes, I did.” She gave Octavia a pointed look.

 

“Sorry,” she said, glancing sheepishly in Ghost’s direction.

 

“Hey,” Hunter said not unkindly. “Ghost is new to magic so we should all be mindful of that, but maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing some lessons. I am, after all, working with both of you.”

 

Ghost stared at him in shock. “Seriously? Is that even remotely safe?”

 

Hunter shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, only if you want to, but I trust what we’ve established together. You’re not going to hurt anyone if I’m riding shotgun and Octavia can hold her own.”

 

“Oh can we please?” Octavia asked.

 

“Yeah okay,” Ghost said, trying to imagine contending with more dragon magic than he already had in his life on a regular basis. He had to admit to himself he was a little curious. “But maybe let’s wait until after Corvallis?”

 

“Yes, I think that’s best,” Hunter agreed with a nod. Octavia gave a sigh but held her tongue.

 

“What about me?” Luther interjected. “It’s not fair, Via gets to do everything.”

 

“You’ll get your turn,” Lance said, patting his younger child’s shoulder. “Power like ours requires patience.” Then he was turning his attention back to Hunter and Ghost. “So Ghost still plans on accompanying you to Corvallis?”

 

Ghost cleared his throat. “I do,” he said, answering the question that had been directed at Hunter. Like hell was he going to be talked about in the third person. “In any case, it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be all that dangerous.”

 

Lance gave him a tight smile. “Yes well, famous last words and all that.  And how have you been liking your time in Portland?”

 

“It’s been very pleasant, thank you.”

 

“Good. At least you two have had a bit of time to recover.”

 

Hunter shook his head. “Unfortunately we cannot really say the same about business matters. The sooner we get things established in Corvallis the better. Are there any reports of more attacks?”

 

“A few little encounters, but nothing significant. They are planning something I suspect.” His gaze went to Ghost. “Have you any insights?”

 

“Lance,” Hunter said, tone annoyed. “He doesn’t know anything. Leave him out of it.”

 

Ghost swallowed the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken, it seemed to stick in his throat going down.

“It’s alright...I can’t speak to anything specific, but you’re probably correct. Sky doesn’t give up anything easily once he’s put a mind to it.” He could feel himself blushing and he didn’t dare look in Hunter’s direction. “It’s why I want to go to Corvallis, just in case you know?”

 

“I’m not dragging you into more violence,” Hunter interjected, shifting his irritation towards Ghost.

 

Ghost rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve covered this already.”

 

Lance made a thoughtful sound as he sipped his coffee. “But I think we can all agree there is more violence to come. So be it. Let’s be ready for it this time shall we?”

 

****

“Come in,” Lance called out in response to his knock and Ghost took a deep breath and opened his office door.

 

“Ah Ghost,” Lance said in surprise.

 

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

“Yes, of course, please sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

 

Ghost settled into one of the easy chairs, “no that’s okay.” He chewed his bottom lip for a moment.

 

“You’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah. Seems like it.”

 

“And you’re adamant you won’t stay here and enjoy our home and full protection over a shabby motel room? I assure you, you’re safe here even without my brother growling about every perceived intrusion on your autonomy.”

 

“It seems ungrateful to enjoy the generosity of your family, knowing the source of your success is in jeopardy. I want to play my part.”

 

“You feel guilty.” Lance said it as a statement.

 

Ghost let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Guilty? Lance, I’ve fractured beyond repair. I have blood on my hands that will never wash clean. Innocent people that I saw as less than human. I despair that I probably will never see my mother again, and then hate myself because there are mother’s among your people who will never see their children again because mine slaughtered them. My world shifted in so many ways in a few short weeks.”

 

Lance nodded, expression neutral. “I think you ought to fix us both a drink. The whiskey in that corner decanter.” Ghost obliged, pouring them both two fingers and taking one glass to Lance’s desk before returning to his chair.

 

“I’m sorry this was not what I intended to trouble you with. I apologize.”

 

The other man waved off his concern. “No, I’m glad we are having this conversation. I will be honest with you, I intend to be brutal when it comes to responding to what your people have done.”

 

He felt himself flinch. “Hunter said as much once.”

 

He steepled his fingers. “I will demand unequivocal surrender, withdrawal and heavy reparations and I will get it. There will be blood and violence to that end.”

 

Ghost’s throat felt suddenly raw, but he nodded. “I understand and I appreciate you saying it plainly.” He could feel the hot trail of tears running down his cheeks unbidden. Stupid. Who was he to indulge in self pity? He wiped at them furiously, turning his attention to the drink cradled in his palm.

 

“Mmm,” Lance took a drink. “I think in time, you will heal from this. But it will take time. How about we make a deal? I will make a point to spare your Searanch clan as long as they do not take up arms directly, and in return you won’t use my war to punish yourself for the past.” He waved off Ghost’s half formed objection. “Yes, yes you’ve made it perfectly clear you’re going to Corvallis. Your offer to protect my brother is both noted and appreciated, but think on my words. There is seeing a thing through and then there is self flagellation.”

 

Ghost blinked. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“For one, I don’t think you’re fractured beyond repair, nor do I think your sins are so very unforgivable. I have no desire to see them become so. What fun is a broken necromancer when I could have so much more?”

 

“Speaking of,” Ghost said remembering himself. “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s just a theory really, but I assume that Hunter told you that I almost died? In the woods?”

 

“The unfortunate run in with the Lupine family,” Lance nodded.

 

“I was able to heal the wound, although it killed them and that was horrific. But I’m getting better at controlling it, using my own life force—and maybe a little from Hunter—to animate things like insects and such, the principles of matter are becoming more clear to me.”

 

“That’s very impressive.”

 

He licked his bottom lip. “You’re unwell.” Lance said nothing, his consideration of Ghost intent. “Worse than Hunter realizes. I can see the way the life drains from you.”

 

“A rare autoimmune condition. It will progress, though I have done what I can to contain it for as long as possible.”

 

“Yes, but maybe I could try to help? Some of the books I’ve been reading have given me some ideas.”

 

“That kind of spell work carries no small risk. You’re either very rash or very naive.”

 

“Probably a little bit of both? But you carry the dragon too right? And I’m bonded to Hunter’s dragon. I may be mostly untrained, but there is no one in the world better aligned to your magics that could try something like this. I’d be willing to try if you are.”

 

Lance’s eyebrows rose. “Have you discussed this with Hunter?”

 

“No. I wanted to bring it up privately with you first. He’ll be upset...to know the extent of your condition. He loves you.” And if it was Hunter’s pain that drove him to act, he wasn’t going to examine that too closely. Gods, what were these feelings stirred up in him by that man anyway?

 

That got a chuckle and a warm expression. “Oh surely he does, but I would wager he’ll be more worked up about the risk it would pose to you.”

 

Ghost pointedly stared at his empty glass. “Hardly.”

 

“Wait and see when I’m right. In any case, let’s discuss it more when the two of you get back. I’m not keeling over tomorrow and this requires careful consideration. Have Angela compile the research you’ve done so far and send it to me.”

 

“Okay...and thank you I guess? For talking and everything.”

 

“You’re most welcome. As you can imagine, the gratitude is mutual. In all this tragedy I’m at least glad to have made your acquaintance, Ghost Searanch.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the comments on the last chapter. They’re definitely circling around each other in interesting ways! Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writing blog, if you want to come say hi!


	15. The Valley Below

“Angela has been letting me help with the library archives some.”

“Oh?” Hunter looked up from his desk. Ghost was in the easy chair by the fireplace in Hunter’s office, a pour of whiskey cradled in his hand and a large book draped lazily across his lap. The orange of the flames seemed to turn his pale hair gold in the flickering light, like some kind of ethereal being out of a fairytale. Only the casual jeans and hoodie seem to anchor him to this particular time and place, though it didn’t make him any less compelling to Hunter’s eyes, his face a mask of concentration as he read now shifted to something softer and more thoughtful. As spirited as Ghost could be at times, under the undemanding hospitality of the Kingfisher estate he often fell into long periods of silence. They more and more found this kind of quiet evening in each other's company typical for them, maybe even comfortable. And if he found himself wishing that their relationship was anything more than the tentative beginnings of friendship... Hunter shook his head, calling himself every kind of idiot for letting his mind wander to such contemplation. That kind of thinking would only drive him crazy. 

Unaware of his internal self admonishment the boy continued. “Cataloging mostly, a little bit of research for other visitors.” Ghost said. “I enjoy it. You know how I am with my my scholarship.”

“That’s good. I know the collection is a lot to manage for one person and we get more requests than we could ever hope to accommodate. I’m sure Angela appreciates the assistance, especially from someone with full privileges to the collection.”

Ghost cleared his throat, staring into his drink. “You know, Portland State has a Library Sciences degree...”

Hunter blinked in surprise. “You want to go to college? To be a librarian?”

Even in the dim light he could see him blush. He still wasn’t looking at Hunter when he spoke. “I had considered it. As I see it, my first career path has kinda hit a dramatic dead end.”

“But you want to be a librarian?” 

Now Ghost looked even more embarrassed. “I was thinking a little more specifically about being your librarian, or I mean a Kingfisher one at least. But maybe that’s stupid? Maybe I’m being stupid.” He sat up, back suddenly ridged, marking his page and closing his book. “It’s getting late. I should get to bed.” 

Oh. Well shit. “No that’s not stupid.” He said quickly. “How is that stupid? I just thought with your gifts, I mean you know your potential is limitless.” 

“I don’t care about that stuff. I never wanted power...just..” He ran a nervous hand through his shortened locks. “Look don’t worry about it.” 

“Waitt.” Hunter got up, taking the matching seat across from him, leaning forward as he spoke. “I’m sorry. You should visit the program and see if it seems like a good fit. Of course if you’d like to pursue such a field, the Kingfishers would be more than happy to sponsor you. I can see where you wouldn’t be comfortable leaving our bond yet, but could also feel stifled here. I’m not trying to impose restrictions on how you put together your future.”

Ghost stood, letting the book hit the floor with a thud. “Fine.” He said cooly. 

Hunter frowned. “Seriously Ghost, what’s up? Just tell me so I can understand.”

Ghost picked up the book and set it on the coffee table with a sigh, expression pinched. “What if I never want to...” His voice was strained now. “What if I don’t ever want to manage this magic on my own? I don’t hate it like I used to, I might even like it a little and maybe I don’t fear it like I used to, but what if that still doesn’t mean I can handle all this independently? What if I never want to?”

“Then you will have me or we will find another to manage this with you.” Oh and why did even saying those words make his heart ache? He’d made this mess and what business did he have in wanting this thing between them anyway? “If you’d like to go to school or apprentice with Angela you have my full support. ” He stood, brushing against longl fingers as he took the glass and poured what was left of the amber liquid down his throat. His nerves were shot and he could use all the help he could get. “Honestly, I--” Hunter made a cut off noise as he felt his shoulders gripped and he was blasted through and through with the cold darkness that could only be Ghost’s own dark magics, as physical as the lithe body that was suddenly inches from his own. His nostrils filled with the smell earth and incense as his eyes began to water. It was more abrupt than necessary, but by no means a threat and he willed himself not to resist it. 

“You would commit to a lifetime of this?” Ghost challenged, voice mixing with the soft flutter of raven wings. Hunter took the slight discomfort in stride, attempting to relax into the feel of their combined magics, the bond that allowed it to flow freely between them, chilling his blood and kicking up his heartbeat at the same time. He reached up, covering Ghost’s hands with his own--as much physical affection as he dared at the moment--jittery and aroused as he was. Hunter could feel against his palm the cool metal of the Kingfisher ring Ghost still wore. 

Beautiful, confounding boy, a force so compelling he’d maybe only met its match in his brother. But that was different. The loyalty he pledged now was forged in blood and pain, not through love and family.

“Yes. I will never leave you. As long as you need me, I will be there. And if you hate me for doing what I did to you, that’s okay too. My terms are not conditional.” 

“Hunter.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s complicated.” His voice was little more than a whisper, pained, said very close to Hunter’s cheek he thought he could feel his breath. He wanted to gather him in his arms, then, and hold him the way he has so impulsively done the second morning when Ghost had thrown the bones and scared them both half to death with the magnitude of his gift—that frightened shaking child that had nearly blasted them to the underworld. 

“Yeah I know.” He pulled away gently, removing the hands from his shoulders before he behaved anymore stupidly. “I’m sorry. Come on. We both could use some rest. I’ll walk you to your room.” 

***

The morning they left for Corvallis Hunter came into the main dining room to find Lance playing a game of checkers with Ghost, both of them studying the board in favor of paying attention to the coffee and pastries the estate staff were laying out. 

“Well after you’ve read the text, I suspect you might still agree with me,” Ghost was saying as he moved his red checker, collecting two of Lance’s black. “But I would be willing to make a trip to San Francisco to see what could be confirmed on the subject.” 

“Noted, but we will see if it comes to that,” Lance replied before glancing up to meet Hunter’s eyes. “Goodmorning, brother. Would you like to join us?” 

“Yes, thank you.” He took the seat next to Ghost, noting the relaxed lines of his body with some relief. Whatever they had been discussing, it didn’t seem to be causing his bonded undue stress. “I wondered why you weren’t answering your door. You’re not usually up this early,” he tried to keep his tone even, but the slight smirk on Lance’s lips suggested he wasn’t altogether successful. 

Ghost made an irritated noise as he crowned one of Lance’s pieces, “Rusty at this..” then his attention was back on Hunter. “Oh. Uh, I couldn’t sleep. I know we aren’t expecting any trouble or anything, but it’s still got my mind buzzing and I figured I might as well get up and finish packing.”

Hunter filled their coffee cups, adding the right amount of cream to Ghost’s from memory. “Having second thoughts?” Ghost took a sip of his coffee and shrugged. 

“Nope. You’re stuck with me, although I’ve planned a great deal of reading in expectation of a very boring trip.”

“Have all the necessary arrangements been made?” Lance asked his brother. 

“Yes. The properties are ready for me to check out and most of my team is there already. It’s not the ritz, but I was able to get a hotel suite with two bedrooms for Ghost and I.” 

Lance gave him an expressionless nod that still conveyed a great deal. “Good. Call me as soon as you arrive.” 

“Of course, of course.” Hunter was picking at the eggs and toast he’d piled onto his plate. “This isn’t my first mission, you know.” 

“Certainly not,” Lance agreed. “I’m sure you will give this matter all the focus and attention you have always paid our family endeavors. May the Goddess give her blessings, to both of you.” 

Ghost took his turn, looking pleased as

***  
“You seem to be making friends with Lance.” Ghost glanced in his direction as he slide onto the leather seat of the town car beside him, a small white box in his hand. 

“Yeah he’s alright, I guess. Does it bug you?” Hunter blinked, even now, he was occasionally taken aback by the ease with which Ghost could cut to the point with him these days—all the original wariness between them seemingly gone. 

“No. I mean even if it did, it’s not like I’d tell you not to socialize with my brother. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable and everything. He can be a real bastard sometimes.” 

“He’s been fine, “ Ghost said, looking out the window, gazing at their massive home as the driver begun to pull away from the estate. 

Hunter took in the package that rested in Ghost’s lap, eyes widening in surprise. “Is that a cell phone?” 

Ghost re-trained his focus on Hunter, holding up the object in question. “Oh yeah. Lance said you could help me set it up? I’ve never had one before—don’t look at me like that—so I basically have no idea how to use this thing” 

“If you’d said you wanted a phone I would have gotten one for you.” Hunter could hear the defensiveness in that sentence and it killed him. Fuck Lance for his meddling anyway. Or worse yet, did Ghost feel like he couldn’t have done it without Lance’s permission anyway (true) and so had simply gone straight to the source to obtain what he’d wanted? 

“It was Lance’s idea. There’s this program, um app, that he and Angela use for sharing research and I said I’d give it a try. He’s interested in what I’m digging around in, because you know, necromancy bonded with dragon magic hanging out in his house and all that.”

Okay, well that actually did make sense when you put it like that. Hunter let out a sigh, admonishing himself harshly. “Here give that here. Is my number in there yet?” 

Ghost handed him the phone. “Have at it, please.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve used a computer either then, Mr we live in the middle of nowhere and make our own clothes?” 

“I did.” Ghost said. “There was a great deal of writing attached with my duties and we were not, thank the gods, required to accomplish that in manuscripts scribbled by candle light or anything like that.”

“I was going to say, that might be a bit of daunting start to college.”

“I’m not too worried. I like using the library database just fine.” 

“Well then smarty pants, I guess you don’t have anything to worry about.” Using Ghost’s phone Hunterr called himself so he’d have his number.

“Oh put your picture in there okay?”

“My what?”

Ghost tapped the lense at the top of the screen. “The phone has a camera. Octavia showed me after breakfast. You can take a picture and add it to someone’s contact information. She did it with hers.” 

Hunter blinked back at him. “You want me to put my picture in your phone?” 

“Yeah, I think it’s hilarious. I even took Lance’s. I’ll have to get Angela when we get back.” 

“Okay. That’s totally weird he’d even let you do that, but I guess, okay. Look over here then.”

“Why?” he asked, but Ghost was already doing it, the green density of the Oregon landscape moving rapidly behind him. Soon the wooded roadside would give way to the brown rivers and pastoral fields of the Willamette Valley, dotted with barns and livestock.

“Well I certainly ain’t taking no picture of myself for you to make fun of unless you’re willing to reciprocate.” 

“Oh. Ugh. Fine, fine.” Ghost ran fingers through his hair and sat up a little straighter. “Have at it I guess.” He took a couple before showing him. Ghost swiped through the images with an ease unexspected for someone that had never owned a phone. “This second one. Use that. I’m actually smiling and I don’t look twelve.”

Hunter nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that’s the best one, but maybe I’ll take another when we’re not crammed in the back of a car.” 

“Sure. Whatever. Now give me my phone back and show me how to turn the camera on. It’s my turn.” 

***

When the waiter at the brew pub asked for Ghost’s ID he blushed slightly, but produced the fake Hunter had had made without too much fan fair. He’d had more interaction with the outside world in the last month than he’s had for the majority of his life. It required a certain amount of adjustment, he supposed. 

“They always do that in in college towns,” Hunter told him. 

“They didn’t ask you.” 

“I don’t look twelve,” he said mildly. Ghost scrunched his face throwing his napkin across the table. 

“Asshole.”

Hunter thanked the man when he returned with their drinks, smirking as he sipped his pint. “Forgive me. You clearly exude nothing but a maturity beyond your years.” The place they had stopped in for lunch was decorated in warmly stained woods, a cozy kind of location that served things like burgers and shepards pie. Ghost thought about the phone in his pocket, the breathtaking freedom that device suddenly offered him and also the pictures he’d taken of Hunter in the car, his sharp, dark features bathed in the greenish spring light in their confined space. 

“Look,” Ghost glanced briefly at the security detail sitting in the table adjacent to them--the Kingfisher's most trusted splitting an order of fries. He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry I flipped out last night. It’s just been...I mean you haven’t been complaining, but I know you don’t like being bonded to someone for so long. And I think I’m just feeling a little lost.”   
“Is the bond uncomfortable for you?” 

“No, not really.” Ghost shook his head. “I’m probably getting more reliant on it than I should.” 

“I meant what I said before,” Hunter told him. “And I’m not looking to break the bond unless that’s what you want.” He reached out and squeezed his hand, fingers warm and calloused, thumb running over the ring on his middle finger. 

“Okay,” he let out a deep sigh, trying to believe that what he was being told was the truth, that he wasn’t a burden or something Hunter was just enduring until he could be rid of him. “Okay. Thanks.” 

Hunter gave him a small smile. “Anytime, kiddo. How’s that wheat beer? Let me try.”


End file.
